


Where God Went to Die

by Bee_you_double_el



Category: Sly Cooper (Video Games)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Drama, Gen, Other, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-08-26 19:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bee_you_double_el/pseuds/Bee_you_double_el
Summary: After Sly Cooper is rescued from Egypt, a choice encounter with a certain owl leads him down a path of self-examination. Could the bird be right in his hatred for the Cooper line? Has Sly been wrong his entire life? Are thieves redeemable? How can he keep this from his daughter? Rated M for some gory bits near the middle.





	1. Chapter One

****

**~~~Where God Went to Die~~~  
**

The heat was just reaching Sly’s face when he woke up, now extinct cold sweat leaving a dark silhouette under him. He could hardly see, but his breathing seemed to be fine, not that it helped much. His mind was just catching up with his eyesight, but his legs must have hated the idea. They felt like they were on fire, and judging by all the heat, Sly wouldn’t be surprised if they were. Slowly, he stood up, clutching cane and holding his neck, scanning his environment. He was in a desert, surrounded by pyramids, blood, and flaming masses of blimp machinery. Any direction the raccoon looked, there was a great fire, catching the color and heat of the sand. Not too far from him, there was a corpse of a rat hunched over a large iron beam, both of which boasting magnificent flames. Sly knew that if he didn’t find shelter from all the heat, he could find himself in that very same position.  
He made out a large palm tree underneath a stature of a dog mounted atop a huge golden platform. Okay… Find shade, then focus on what the hell happened. Sly screamed in himself, forcing his legs to follow the plan. They shrieked nervous pain up his body, but Cooper ignored them. Dying was the last item on his bucket list.  
A large boom sent heat and debris flying towards Sly, who had made little progress on his trek. Another part of the blimp had destroyed itself. Perhaps time was catching up with it. He knew he just had to find shade, then he’d be fine. His legs hurt more than before, the pain seeming to amplify. He felt the sweat rolling down his back slowly drop in frequency, as his body quickly lost optimism. His legs were dropping feeling, falling numb under all the pressure. Sly was panting, fighting for a breath of cold air as his entire figure trembled, ready to quit. He was only a good mile from the statue… only a good hour from the statue.  
The last thing Sly felt before he collapsed in the sand was an overwhelming chill of regret. His only ice in an ocean of fire was self-loathe.  
Soon, the raccoon woke in the presence of three others, one of which was holding a knife to his neck. The figures carried un-distinguishable features, with no voice or face to them. One was shouting in a foreign tongue, seeming to gesture at Sly, who wasn’t even sure he was still alive. Before he could move, or make any noise beyond a groan, one of the figures grabbed him by his arm and yanked him out of what felt like a bed. The raccoon was dragged back out into the warm sun, blinding him even further. When his eyesight finally did clear, his fear came with it. Sly saw he was in a large village, carved out of bronze and stone, and that he was completely naked. His legs felt better, but he could feel wet bandages wrapped around them as the figure forced him to walk. Cooper finally found his nerve to speak up. “Uh… Hi?” He smiled at the figure, now clear enough to be seen as a large, bloody rhino. The rhino smacked him on the back of his head and snorted at him. He pointed forwards and started walking. Sly didn’t disobey. After a little while of walking, the two arrive at a large stone temple, its cold grey color combating the rash aura of the village. The rhino points to the top of the stairs, where a black opening glared at them. Sly, not wanting to be hit again, ascended the stairs. He wasn’t worried so much as to what lay inside the temple, but more to what the crowd gathering at the foot of the temple was thinking about a naked raccoon treading on their sacred stone city. Sly figured trying to shame himself would be cowardly, and that running away would be suicide, so he shrugged and kept climbing.  
The temple wasn’t too high up, but the wounds on Sly’s legs helped it feel like a stairway to space. When he finally reached the top, starting to feel like he needed to black out again, he stood in the doorway of a huge room decorated in papers and ink scribbles. Sly almost grinned at how close it looked to Bentley’s workshop back in Paris. Images of home weren’t as comforting as Sly had hoped they’d be, but they helped. Only back in Paris, there was a turtle. Here, there was a huge owl, mumbling angrily as he sat over a wooden contraption. A wash of fear shook the debility from Sly’s being, as despite the large open earth behind him, he suddenly felt trapped.  
The owl looked up, seeming to sense the fear like it was an actual tangible force. He smiled, standing up from his kneel. He was huge, maybe eleven feet in stature, and muscular as all Muggshot. “Hello, young raccoon.” His voice was thunderous, yet soft when he spoke in English. “You owe me a little respect boy,” He spoke, motioning for Sly to enter further. “I did save you, after all.” Sly nodded, and softly delved deeper into the room. “What do they call you, hmm?” The owl asked.  
“My… My name?” Cooper asked, terrified.  
The bird chuckled. “Yes, boy. Your name.” He sighed, making eye contact with Sly. “For example, they call me Clockwerk. So, what do they call you?” Those words confirmed the horrid fear festering inside Sly’s mind.

Chapter One  


Egypt – 1320 BCE

The raccoon and the owl sat quietly in the room for a few moments, before Sly spoke back up. “Cyrille.” The raccoon said at last. “Cyrille Le Paradox.” He finished without effort, seeming to draw from a memory older than that of his recent adventure.  
The owl let out a heartfelt laugh. “Paradox? Do you take me for a fool, Slytunkhamen?” He asked while his shoulders were still bouncing from laughter.  
Cooper felt himself gulp. Does he know who I am? Does he… Slytunkhamen? A million thoughts stampeded through Cooper’s mind then. He was standing in front of Clockwerk, the very same Clockwerk that almost succeeded in destroying his family, the very same Clockwerk that killed his father… the same Clockwerk that was supposed to be a robot. This was the version of him before all of that, the him before the machine. Maybe even before the monster.  
The bird wasn’t too bad looking; tall and muscular, few scars, bright yellow eyes, and a stunningly polished look to his wings, hidden poorly behind his back. If he were to spread them out to their full span, they would easily cramp the entire room. He wore a headdress, small but empowering, and a baggy pair of trousers, silky and red, as if they had come from a different land. Judging by Clockwerk’s voice, Sly’s theory of the owl’s possible immigration was growing. A small smile was creeping across his beak, like a fisherman watching his bobber disappear under the water, but with more malice, like he was more excited for the opportunity to kill something rather than eat. The owl had the raccoon in his talons, all he had to do now, was choose when to squeeze.  
“Answer me.” He said in a rather upbeat tone, the perfect mask for the rage Sly saw manifesting in his eyes.  
Sly was an impeccable thief, but he was a better liar. All fear drained from his body, letting his throat loosen up. “No. My name is Paradox.”  
The owl smiled wider, grinding his teeth as his eyes almost melted into a grim shade of red, raising a small alarm. “Cooper. You’re a Cooper…” He voice was calm.  
Sly looked him dead in the eyes, feeling the heat of the desert explode back into his lungs. “My name is Paradox. It always has been.”  
The owl sighed, his smile flushing away his mask as well as his rage. Clockwerk nodded slowly. “You don’t sound like him… just… I apologize… I though you looked like…” Sadness replaced hatred in his glare, tears beginning to swell at the corners of his warm yellow eyes. “Forgive me, Cyrille was it? Well,” His smile returned to it’s former self, not trying to hide any heyday emotions.  
“Where am I?” Sly asked unflinching.  
Clockwerk’s face was of a child then. He looked happy to answer the question, even offering the naked guest a seat. Sly didn’t move. “Excuse me, I have not been polite. Welcome to Djesdjes! Our city made of bronze holds our hearts made of gold!” He reached out his arms to his sides, as if his people could see him. “I am their Mayor, Clockwerk. Please forgive my mess, I wasn’t expecting a guest for another few- “  
Sly scoffed loudly, still calm and vigilant for Clockwerk’s true nature. “Guest? If this is how you treat your guests, I’d hate to see how the Pharaoh is welcomed.”  
Clockwerk looked confused. “Ah, well… yes, when they found you out there, they assumed you were Slyth… just a local thief, pay no mind to it.” That hit a nerve in Sly’s memory, sending him flashbacks to reading about his ancient ancestor, an Egyptian thief ‘Slytunkhamen’ and his mastery of stealth in the Thevious Raccoonus. Remembering that book triggered woes of his friends, and the macabre possibility that they might not have survived the blimp explosion. Before Sly could dwell on that thought, the owl spoke again. “That does provoke an apology on my behalf.” He stood up. “Cyrille Le Paradox,” He started, speaking this time with a thick Russian accent, like he was channeling another being to help him in atonement. “I must offer you my sincerest apologies for the way you have been treated, you were misjudged on my persons, and I hope you take conciliation in knowing that I shall cease my mistakes indefinitely.”  
The owl had finished his speech before gleaming warmly at Sly, dumbstruck as he was. Cooper had not expected the bird to be so… kooky. Here he was, the biggest nemesis to the Cooper lineage, giving a heartfelt apology for stripping and jailing a “guest.” It all seemed like a fever dream, like Sly was still stuck out in the desert, and this was all some dehydrated nightmare. Clockwerk was supposed to be fierce, scary, and a monstrous stalker, not some Russian-Egyptian mayor who tinkered with twigs for fun.  
Sly nodded. “Uh… it’s cool, man.” He choked, nervous about picking up the conversation. “Hey, uh… do you think I could get like a loincloth or, like, a- “  
Clockwerk clapped his hands. “Ah! I owe you another apology, I seem to have forgotten!” He laughed, before inhaling. Sly cut him off, explaining that the best way he could apologize would be to just clothe him.  
Clockwerk called up a guard to bring multiple outfits, so that their guest could have what he pleased. Sly, already uncomfortable having to choose his breakfast each morning, visibly cringed at the idea of picking a fancy outfit. Per Cooper’s request, Clockwerk sent for a fetching of simple white rags, baggy and none-too revealing.  
Once his genitals were safe from the gaze of the owl, he sat himself down on the chair previously offered to him. “So tell me, Paradox,” The bird started, moving papers and sticks from his desk so he could rest his arms. “how did you get here?”  
Sly laughed, keeping calm at being referred to by the name of that skunk. “That is a long story… I don’t think you’d even believe me.”  
Clockwerk smiled. “Why not? I believed your other lies.”  
Flinching, the raccoon forced his face to remain calm. He’s just trying to intimidate you, Sly. He doesn’t know anything… Sly fabricated a laugh. “Alright, but you asked for it.” Sly said, avoiding a response to Clockwerk’s sneaky accusation, bringing about a spark in the bird’s eyes.  
Sly started with his story, abridging the finer details to make sure the owl didn’t figure out he was a cooper. Sly lied to him, saying that he was a traveler from the future sent back in time to explore the past. “To compare how it really was to how our historians say it was.” He stated, never breaking eye contact with Clockwerk, who showed no change of expression. The raccoon talked about the other countries he had visited, mentioning Japan, The United States, England and what would soon be renamed Saudi Aribia. He expanded his story, talking about his travels to other areas in other times, selecting locals from his previous adventures; Haiti, India, Australia, Russia, having to explain what each territory was in modern day. Sly noticed when he mentioned Russia, Clockwerk would look away for a moment, before swallowing air, coughing hard, then returning his attention to the story. Sly continued to explain that he traveled through time via blimp – Dumbed down to “A big flying chariot” for easier understanding – and that it had crashed here, and as long as it remained broken, Sly was trapped.  
When he finished his partly false tale, Clockwerk nodded with a heavy sigh. “If you are from the future… how far did you say?”  
“Three thousand years… give or take a few.” Sly responded.  
“Ah. If you are a traveler of three millennium, tell me; Does God reveal himself?” The bird asked, seeming genuinely curious.  
The question came as a shock, as Sly was sure the bird would ask for a certain detail only a time vagabond would be able to answer. Hearing a religious question was a bit bizarre for the raccoon. He remembered Clockwerk to be relatively smart. Cunning, manipulative, philosophical, the question was something the bird would ask… just not this Clockwerk. Maybe they aren’t the same people… maybe… Sly pondered the question for a minute before responding smoothly. “Which one?” He knew thirteen hundred BCE was way before the start of Christianity, and that the owl must have been referencing the Egyptian gods.  
Clockwerk scoffed. “You know which one.” After a shrug from Sly, the bird sighed an annoyed puff of air, rolling his eyes. “Allah?”  
That left a strange twist in Cooper’s gut. Allah? Clockwerk beamed a menacing glare at him. “Most people don’t even believe in gods anymore… it’s all seen as scriptures of the past. Like… fairytales.” The raccoon finished, tiptoeing around blatantly saying ‘no.’ The bird nodded.  
It seemed to be an hour of uncomfortable silence as Clockwerk stared deep in thought at a design on his wall, depicting a large catapult-esque contraption. Finally, he spoke; “How is time travel possible, when time doesn’t exist?” He looked at Cooper again, without moving his head. He didn’t even seem to be breathing at that moment.  
Time exists, of course it exists! Cooper shrugged, trying to convey a comfortable vibe. “I didn’t build it, I just drive it.”  
Clockwerk shook his head, still holding his breath. “Answer my question. Time is a measurement, so does your machine erase all progress made by man up to a certain date? Does it move forward in time? Of course it would, you have to return home, so theoretically, you cannot erase history, that would mean you would have to be able to rebuild it, but with your new input effecting the outcome of decisions, history must change. And if history changes, how can it rebuild? If it is meant to follow a simple path set by what happened when you moved past other time periods until you got here, then that path must change, but for one change to alter an entire trilogy of millennium, the model must be damaged surely! And then if you were to stop yourself from altering that model, you alter it twice fold, creating an even bigger difference! And then, say you were to stop time travel from ever existing, via time travel, you create a… a…”  
The bird stopped rambling to glare at Sly, who was now scared both mentally and physically. His body tensed up, and his skin adopted the burning sensation again. The owl seemed to smile, the same way Sly would smile after finding loot in the pockets of unexpecting guards. The same smile that said ‘I found it. I have it. It is mine.’  
“A paradox.” The owl finished. The raccoon nodded slowly, trying desperately to think past his fear, and bullshit together a feasible explanation as to why that fit his name.  
The two sat in burning silence, just staring at each other, trying their hardest to read the other’s mind. Clockwerk was close, but Sly’s brain had gone empty, replaced with primal instinct. He wasn’t prepared to fight the bird, but he was ready to run. If those wings could hold up six tons of robot owl, they sure as hell could support three hundred pounds of biological terror.  
Clockwerk smiled. “You know why they call me Clockwerk, right?” Sly shook his head. “I make clocks. They tell time. Everyday someone asks me how time works. Where time goes. I have to explain that time isn’t real. I have to explain that things happen and we can’t change those things. They just happen.” The air grew unusually cold as a shadow settled over the sun. “…Like clockwork.” His smile grew larger.  
Sly Cooper stood up quickly, feeling his skin crawl under his fur. He wanted to move outside into the bipolar air, find some water, find the gang and Carmelita, go home. He would even settle for just burning to death. Anything to get away from the bird. A million thoughts passed through Sly’s mind as he forced the feeblest smile he could and pushed his chair into Clockwerk’s desk. It contacted the stone with a lousy thud, rustling some of the papers. “I think I’m hungry… Is there someo-one I could talk to about some f-food?”  
The bird stared warmly at him, happy he had got the raccoon to crack. Sly knew he was planning something. “Of course,” He stood up and walked Sly to the doorway, setting his huge hand on the raccoon’s shoulder. It was cold, like it was already made of nerveless steel. It made Sly shudder to be held underneath Clockwerk’s huge arms, for if he wanted to, he could kill Cooper with one swift motion. Finally finishing off the family line. Ironic that their legacy would start and end in Ancient Egypt. He pointed to a building off in a corner of the city, near where Sly remembered being dragged out of. “Hope you like leeks.”  
The raccoon nodded and quickly ran out from under the arms of his father’s killer, not looking behind him at what he knew was glaring a hole in his back. He just quickly descended the stairs, hoping to find something he could use to defend himself. Where the fuck is my cane!? He screamed at himself, his eyes darting from stone building to stone building searching for any kind of treasure trove. Near a divide in the city’s wall were various animals moving and cleaning parts from the blimp wreckage, lining the most important pieces on a cloth to be taken to their mayor.  
The thought of what Clockwerk could do with that kind of technology scared Sly out of his mind… even though he knew exactly what that technology would do. Somehow, that owl would find a way to meld his mind into machine, and create the biggest terror the Cooper family has ever seen. Or will ever see… a tiny fearful voice in the back of Sly’s mind reminded him, to be immediately repressed.  
Near his body, close enough to snatch, and too far from the cleaners to be missed, lay a thin cylinder of coal. Nimbly swiping the stick, Sly jumped to a plan. He squatted down behind a corner of the wall and drew his mask logo big and wide enough to last a while. If it could survive the test of time, this would be his ticket back to the present. For added effect, Sly continued to draw miniature logos across every wall and door he found, large and clear enough to be noticed come twenty-seven centuries.  
Sure enough, a loud crash carried a wisp of cold air over Sly’s body, but before he had time to figure out the direction it came from, another crash was heard, this time, followed by screams. Several gunshots chased the screams, as well as that of stone cracking. Sly knew that he needed to find Bentley before the chaos reached him. The closer and closer he got to the source, the larger and larger the feeling of dread grew. The screams showed their face when Sly turned a corner, and a triumphant yell echoed over the gunshots. “THE MURRAY YEILDS FOR NO RODENT!” The hulking mass of pink hippo stepped over a twitching pile of police he had growing at his feet. “Except for raccoons!” He smiled, holding out his arms in pure happiness.  
Sly gratefully accepted his hug, barely wincing at the pain of the squeeze. “A couple hours feel like a few years without you, buddy.” Sly laughed gaily, looking the hippo over. He looked different, aged even.  
“No time for that now. We have to get you out of here!” Murray sucked in a heavy breath and charged back into the battle, signaling for the raccoon to follow. The hippo continued rocketing past troops and civilians until he was cut off by the white-hot form of the van slowly taking shape. It skidded to a halt as the color returned, its tire streaks still aflame behind it. The huge metal door flew open, and an outstretched hand beckoned for sly. Due to the shade, it was impossible to tell who’s hand it was, but Sly didn’t care, as long as it helped him out of this sand pit.  
He reached for the hand, but stopped inches away from it. “My cane…” He muttered, his mind retuning to him.  
“Augh! Dammit Cooper!” a feisty voice yelled, sucking it’s – well, her hand back in. The shadow of Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox grew a little brighter, Sly’s eyes adjusting to the light. Or maybe it was due to the illumination emitted from her shock pistol. It spat out a furious blue ball of lightning, landing a few feet behind him. Sly spun around just in time to see a large camel twitch violently with his new sensation. He fell on his back, still twitching. “Raccoon! Come on!” Fox yelled, failing to regain the attention of Sly.  
“I need to find my cane!” he yelled absentmindedly.  
Bentley looked back from the driver’s seat, franticly pushing buttons and yanking at levers. “Sly climb in! We can find it!” He winced when Carmelita fired a few more shots into a growing crowd, who had begun throwing spears and rocks. Sly was hesitant. Not that he didn’t trust Bentley, or fear that they didn’t have enough firepower to break out of the past, but he needed his cane. He had only ever left it before when he knew it would be in good care. If Clockwerk got a hold of it…  
Before he had time to verbally protest, he was lifted from the ground and thrown into the van. “Go! I’ll hold ‘em off you for a little while. Find the cane and then come back for me, okay?” Murray yelled over the accumulating chaos, not even flinching at the impact of all the rocks.  
Sly was about to speak again, but was cut off for a second time when Carmelita slammed the van door shut. “Drive!” She yelled.  
Bentley slammed his foot on the throttle and spun off into a large alleyway. “Where are we looking for it?”  
Sly sat himself down in the passenger seat as Carmelita cursed at her pistol, trying to reload. “Uh… look for all the blimp parts, maybe they’re storing them all together.” He shrugged, analyzing the stone walls surrounding them, wondering if the van was strong enough to break through them.  
Carmelita yelled harshly in Spanish, reaching past sly and grabbing at the glove box. “That’d be real freaking convenient!” she extracted a small red pipe with a blue glow. She shoved it in the top of her gun and glared at sly. The raccoon blinked slowly, staring out the windshield, not wanting to look back. When Fox realized she wasn’t going to get a reaction, she growled and turned away. Bentley and Sly sent each other a cold nervous glance, trying to read each other’s thoughts, worried that she’d- “WALL!” Her voice exploded behind them, just before the van went darting straight into a huge white stone wall. Bentley pushed both his feet down onto the van’s brake pedal- Wait… How the hell has Bentley been driving all this time? Sly thought, seconds before being violently thrown into the dashboard.  
When the raccoon felt it was safe to start breathing again, he noticed the rig still seemed to be in one piece. Not even a small crack in the windshield. Plenty of sand, though. The door behind sly opened will a loud crack, giving hint as to what might be destroyed. Sly followed Carmelita outside onto the yellow ocean of sand. She was standing motionless, pistol hanging from her belt, just a few meters from the van. She was watching the city, not even a hundred feet in front of her, slowly crumble and fall. The hole in the wall the van had made on its exit was growing larger by the millisecond. Soon, the entire side of the wall collapsed. Carmelita sighed. “The hell is he doing in there?”

“Annihilating what would one day be a beautiful vacation spot?” He joked, standing beside her. Adding a little to his ego, and much to his joy, she laughed.  
“Yeah, if any travel agent could figure out how to pronounce the damn name.” She kept chuckling.  
Sly laughed, chiefly due to relief she was happy. He looked at her, the warm light shining brightly off her deep brown eyes. They almost looked like candy, the way they shined. When they looked back at him, they brought with a sincere smile. Her hand even raised itself to cup Sly’s cheek and rub his chin. She was about to pull him in for a kiss, when Bentley yelled from behind them to look towards another part of the city. Sure enough, there seemed to be a huge squared off section filled above the brim with large metal pieces and other bits of debris. Sly looked back at Carmelita with a grin. “Almost over.”  
“No more adventures, okay?”  
“Awe, not even one?”  
She laughed, moving back to the van. “Not in a millennium, Cooper.”  
Sly nodded slowly. “How about three, then?”  
Once the two had settled back in the van – and Bentley had determined the rig wouldn’t immediately fall apart– they set off for the big pile of wreckage. On their way, they observed hulking masses of rock and rhino fly high over the standing walls. What wasn’t aflame or broken to a pile of rubble was slowly catching up to its brethren. Within mere seconds, any standing tower or wall they laid eyes on would deconstruct themselves, with the aid of a huge hippo.  
They had finally run over the last few piles of gravel, granting them entryway to the large storage lot. Chucks of crumbling stone pushed the steel beams over to block their escape behind them. “It had better be in here…” Bentley said under his breath. Sly was more confidant, however, hopping out of the van to inspect the area. He decided to start over by a deliberate collection of machinery, none looking to be too broken. A large pile of clocks, broken lightboxes, keyboards, and other misassorted electrical trinkets. “Dammit…” Sly sighed, knowing the pile was too small to hide his cane.  
A voice exploded behind him, almost shattering the raccoon’s eardrums with its horrible metallic screech. “Cooper!” sly turned around, spying a large metal monstrosity, chrome plated with huge glowing red eyes. For a second of pure, cold horror, Sly saw the face of Clockwerk. Not the organic, feathered one he had met only minutes ago, but the one he knew. The one he witnessed slaughter his parents. His mind caught up with his eyes in time to recognize that the monster was just a robot, and the voice was only that of a processed Penelope. Her suit was large, but the stick in her left hand wasn’t. “Looking for this?” She dangled Sly’s cane from her gigantic fingers by her side. Sly could feel her crooked smile behind all of that emotionless steel.  
“Glad to see you could make it, Pen. The party’s always a little empty without you.” Sly crossed his arms and glared at her. He figured if he could just talk to her, maybe she might not force a battle admits all the chaos.  
She laughed, sounding scratchy and vented though her robotic voice. “Always the sweet talker, huh raccoon?” She balanced the cane on her thumb while talking, then adding her index and middle finger to either end of the stick, punching slightly. “…But I’m going to need you to be quiet for a little bit.” Sly obeyed, growing fearful of whether or not she’d actually break his cane. Sure, she had tried to kill him before, and she probably hated his entire crew, but she wasn’t so heartless as to break one of his only family heirlooms… right?  
“I need a favor. I need you to leave and never come back. Leave and never come back to anything. Live your lives out, lord knows you have enough money to retire to some private ocean somewhere." She chuckled at her exaggeration. “leave your pathetic lives of thievery and crime, and be done with it all.” She held her arm out, pushing down with more force. “Or else I’ll- “  
She never got to finish her threat, or her action perhaps, as faster than a beam of sunlight passes the hills, and twice as bright, the Gang’s van materialized behind Penelope’s mech suit and slammed into her, knocking her off her perch along the wall. The figures inside the van were all yelling and fighting for the stick shift. Eventually, what looked like Carmelita elbowed what looked like Sly in his jaw. “Okay! It’s done! Let’s get out of here!” She yelled, seconds before the van expulsed itself through a parallel wall, disappearing with anther bright flash.  
Even though it all happened in the span of only four seconds, Sly had fully absorbed every little detail. He wasn’t a paranoid person, but all of Bentley’s talk of time paradoxes and “The destruction of the very fabric of reality!” had gotten to him here and there. Sly knew that because he had witnessed a future version of himself performing an action, sooner or later, he’d have to do it verbatim. Or else all of this would be for naught.  
A few bright blue blasts erupted from Carmelita’s pistol, hitting the grounded Penelope, momentarily locking her in place. Sly, seizing his window, dashed towards his cane, lying only a few feet from its captor. He scooped it up, tipping an imaginary hat to the huge metal suit that lay twitching on the ground. Hearing the van approaching quickly behind him, he figured he could hammer in a quirky remark before his exit. However, in trying to think of something to say, the only expressions that came to his mind were hateful, angry slurs. He had never wanted to curse out or maliciously scream at someone before, let alone Penelope. Sure, she had betrayed him, destroyed their friendship and broken the heart of his best friend, but ultimately, she was just another raindrop in his endless monsoon of life. Not that he was used to being backstabbed, but Neyla had definitely left her marks. Given the chance, he would go back and beat her senseless before he ever had the chance to trust the cat. If not for his said fear of paradoxes, Sly would have already done it. It was never vocal or present, but he always harbored a deep and furious hatred for the Constable. If not for her, Bentley would never have been bound to his wheelchair. If not for her, Murray would never have left. If not for Neyla, Sly would never have had to relive the horror of Clockwerk again… if not for Penelope, Sly would never have been thrown back into a life of robbery, time travel, and ultimately into the claws of what would eventually become his greatest fear… if not for Penelope, Sly would be happy.  
Holding himself back, mentally, verbally and physically, he readied himself for his jump. Keep your cool, Cooper. You’ve done it for years… the words rolled through his mind as he leaped in the air, catching the open door of the van as it spun past the robotic suit. You’re almost done…  
After climbing back inside the vehicle, and a few loud words from Carmelita about Murray, Sly leaned over to Bentley. “You saw that right?” He asked, running through every little detail in his mind again.  
Bentley took a hard left, slamming all passengers against the wall. “Yeah, but we can’t do that now!” He yelled, shoving the stick into another gear.  
“Whaddya mean we can’t do it now? We have to!” Sly yelled back, just as Murray was spotted around a corner.  
Bentley spun the van into a U-turn, opening the doors for the hippo. “Sly, we barley have any power, not to mention the condition of the vehicle! We can do it after we’re safely back in the present!” The van shook under the weight of the hippo.  
Sly started to interject when Carmelita pressed against him, agitated by the lack of room. “¡Hijo de puta!” She growled. “Cooper just listen to him or I swear- “ She was cut off when a huge boom shook the very earth in front of them. Standing at the mouth of the alleyway, was Penelope in her large metal suit, bracing herself, as if to catch the van upon its approach. A few uninjured guards were gathering behind her. “Mierda…” She sighed.  
Murray, however, was accelerating his breathing. “Hey pals, what’d I miss?” he asked happily, oblivious to the figure in front of them.  
Sly snatched the stick shifter and pulled it into reverse. “Go! We have to do this now!” He yelled, still being squashed by Carm, who was also reaching for the stick, forcing it to first.  
“No! Run her over!” She yelled.  
Bentley threw his hand on the top of the pile, keeping the car in Neutral. “No! We can’t hurt her!”  
“We have to knock her out! I need my cane back!”  
“Goddammit if we hit her now, she’s out of our hair forever!”  
“I won’t let you!”  
“Bentley, we could all die!”  
“SHE, needs to!”  
“I still love her!”  
Murray thought long and hard about the situation unraveling in front of him. Eventually, the cogs in his brain caught up to speed with reality, and he grabbed the stick too, throwing the van into reverse. “Guys, if we back up, we’ll have more ramming speed!” He laughed happily, while his three friend’s hands were dying under the crushing force of his fist.  
With his free hand, sly punched the timestamp into the dash, ready to make the time hop, now that the car was hurtling backwards. “No!” Carmelita and Bentley yelled in unison, fighting to pull the Raccoon off. Suddenly, the air around them grew cold, and a huge aura of energy destroyed the view of stone buildings and a shrinking robot from the windshield, replacing it with a clear shot of the sky. Soon after, the van made contact with what they all knew to be Penelope, and hit the ground with a huge crash. “Good! We can still get home!” Bentley yelled, fighting for re-control of the shift.  
Wait… Sly remembered that this had to be verbatim, or else they could all be destroyed. “Carmelita, I need you to elb- “ He couldn’t complete his sentence, as his teeth nearly bit through is tongue. Being elbowed by someone as strong as Carmelita hurt, but Sly knew it needed to happen.  
“Okay! It’s done! Let’s get out of here!” She yelled, not paying any mind to Sly’s pain, as she pushed the stick back into first, contempt with her victory. The van quickly picked up speed, slamming into and destroying the wall in front of them, seconds before the van was swallowed by the aura again.  
Everybody sat with anxious breath, praying the van had the last bit of juice needed to make the leap home. Even Sly’s pain seemed to momentarily dissipate as he waited. With a loud spurt, and a nerve-racking grinding sound, the car slammed to a halt, its aura gone. Sitting just a few feet in front of them, hidden behind a huge metal fence and a few bushes, was the Gang’s French hideout.  
The sight of the warm mid-summer Paris day brought about cheers and laughter from the gang. Some celebratory, some relived, most just pure happy.  
It was over.  
Soon, the pain returned to Sly’s jaw, but he knew it wouldn’t be too bad. He’s had worse pains in his life. Most, funny enough, were Carmelita’s doing. She had eventually apologized, aside the cheering and the clapping. “Sorry about that, Sly…” She smiled.  
“You could have just shot me, to think about it. Would have hurt less.” He smiled back, being pulled into a kiss. A happy, yet heavy pat on the back from Murray and a sarcastic “Awe” from Bentley pulled the two off of each other.  
A cracked fit of laughter from the back of the van caught Sly by surprise as it spoke up. “Augh! Smooch her, bro! we’re all boodie-boodies in this outfit, you dig? What swag have you to lose now, eh?” The lively voice of Dimitri Lousteau was a hard one to forget, especially when I was always so loud.  
Sly was confused. “How long have you been back there?”  
Dimitri shrugged, and sipped at his flask, looking down at a playboy magazine he was holding. “I don’t learn, I teach, you feel? But that does not mean I can’t learn. Turtle-man over there spoke into my ear, ‘join us, bro’ for too long to be a little breeze on your face. A hurricane I felt, I say. So, I came, and it was pretty groovy.”  
Sly could never understand the lizard, but seldom did he care to. He was just happy to be home. To prove that to his friends, he kissed Miss Fox again, making sure to hold it for a while.  
Eventually, it was time for damage control. The van was; “The badass barnacles of Satan’s buttocks, bro.” in Dimitri’s terms. The engine was smoking, the tires were all burned off, the body was badly dented and scared, and the time machine was cracked and sparking. Worse of it all, their dramatic entry had actually taken place in the middle of a busy street. After a solid few heaves from Murray, they were able to pull it into the hideout’s driveway, and out of public view. Murray and Bentley went to work on it immediately, to ensure it wouldn’t explode in the middle of the night and take out half the city with it. Dimitri scurried off somewhere, as he would do from time to time. Sly took advantage of the serenity to freeze himself in a cold shower, accidentally falling asleep for a few minutes, so absorbed in the wonderful feeling. Afterwards, he dried himself off and dressed in his old clothes. He had left his hat back in Egypt, but come to that or his cane, the choice of what to risk his life over was obvious. It felt nice to feel normal again, to stand fully confidant and comfortable in his home, not naked and horrified in a stone prison face to face with his family’s killer. He looked himself up and down the mirror, standing fully present in his own mind, feeling able to control everything. All he wanted to think about was the future of him and Carmelita, but minds will wander, and his did… like Clockwerk… Now that Penelope is back in his era, and with her ability to warp anywhere in a concrete timeline, that made the bird immensely powerful. Perhaps Penelope was the one responsible for the bird’s modification all this time. Perhaps Penelope could rewrite time, destroy the coopers before they ever existed… she could be the next Clockwerk…  
Before Sly had time to indulge in any more disturbing trains of thought, someone knocked on his door. Without waiting for an invitation to enter, Carmelita slowly moved inside, smiling bright at him. “Figured you’d want this.” She handed him a fudgesicle. She was dressed in casual wear, obviously happy herself to be out of the past and in a comfortable position. Sly thanked her and rested his arm around her shoulders.  
“Did I ever apologize for running out on this life?” He sighed, looking at her. “Like, ever?”  
She laughed and looked out the huge window that opened to a small balcony standing parallel to them. “It’s okay Sly. I think you’ve learned your lesson.” Sly nodded and followed her gaze. They had a magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower from there. “Right?”  
Sly laughed. “Right.”

ANNOTATIONS:  
Clockwerk is anthro  
Djesdjes is the olden name for what is now Bahariya Oasis.  
First mention of Allah comes from about 600 - 500 BCE  
Camels weren’t brought to Egypt till maybe 500 BCE because of the Persians but this is a furry world so fuck you.


	2. Chapter Two

****

~~~Where God Went to Die~~~

A young raccoon sat quietly in the center of a warmly lit cabin, soaking in the rays of autumn sunlight pushing their waves through the window in front of her. She was nose deep in a book, refusing to look away from the pages when she’d raise a thick mug of coffee to her lips. The liquid was painfully hot, burning her mouth if she let it sit for even a second, but she didn’t care. Her book wasn’t even that interesting, it had no plot, no characters, no movement or structure, just pictures. What little she could read past the torn, yellow, burnt pages of the old leather-bound tome seemed to be instructions, a type of guide for what appeared to be martial arts movements. The drawings, oddly enough all looked different, as if they weren't drawn at the same time. She was sure to be extra careful not to damage the pages further, it looked so fragile.  
A loud thump was heard outside the oak door behind her, and quickly, almost knowing that she would be punished for snooping around in his things, tossed the book under the room’s large black couch.  
The door opened, and a large, burly, and quite lean-for-his-age raccoon entered. He had a small bit of coarse, longer and darker fur along his jawline and chin, and wore a small scar under his right eye. He smiled when he saw the girl innocently standing with her coffee, waiting for him. “Hey Ayleen, wanna help me with the groceries?”  
She smiled, pushing the strange book to the back of her mind. “Sure dad!” 

  
Chapter Two  


Denmark – 2035  


Ayleen Montoya followed her father outside, absorbing the crisp air. She helped carry in bags of food, stocking their ice box between trips. “How was your day?” Sly asked with a grunt, setting down half a dozen milk jugs on the countertop.  
Ay shrugged. “Eh, same old same old.” She forced herself to recount the events of the day, looking for something interesting to talk about. “I think Mads is gonna leave on a cruise in a few days.” She caught an airborne apple sly threw her way, hoisting herself up next to the milk.  
“Really? That tiny punk gets a cruise?” Sly snorted.  
Ay playfully kicked his arm. “Aw, he isn’t that bad.” She felt a hot rush encompass her face. “He's kinda cute too…”  
Sly Glared at her sternly. “Nuh-uh, absolutely not.” He growled, attempting to hide a laugh. Ayleen didn’t even try. “He’s twenty-three and still in junior year.” She kept laughing, more so as a cover for her embarrassment. “That’s like, a huge warning sign right there.”  
Ayleen forced herself to stop, letting herself look her father in the eyes. “Calm down, Pol Pot, I was kidding.” Sly nodded and let out a disbelieving um-hm.  
“What about Jørgen? He's a good guy.” Sly asked, opening a beer bottle.  
Ayleen shook her head. “Nah, he’s gay I think.” In truth, she didn’t know a thing about Jørgen, aside from his horrible sense of humor. She felt that might have been a rude criticism, however. She didn’t care about boys altogether anyway. She wasn’t really focused on a relationship, let alone the idea of being happy in someone else's arms. If there was one thing she learned from her father (without his direct teachings,) it was how to be self-sufficient and independent. Sly was a good father, loving and caring, and very liberal when it came to her private life. However, sometimes depression would get the best of him, and he would shut down. Then it would fall onto Ayleen to cook her dinner or clean up. His episodes would never last for too long and fortunately were seldom in appearance. Mostly when Ayleen brought up her mother. She knew little of her, was never given the chance to meet any of Sly’s old friends to implore her story, and any photo album she could get her hands on only consisted of Ayleen and Sly on various holidays and birthdays. Ayleen herself had a lot of friends, and was never afraid to switch to an extroverted state of being, but sometimes she wondered if her popularity made her father jealous. He looked happy alright, but something told Ayleen that he was a pretty damn good liar.  
Sly sighed, leaning against the refrigerator. “Bummer. Well, he's a good guy. I hope he finds someone.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped his thumb around the screen for a while. Eventually, bored of whatever he had started, he recklessly tossed it onto the carpeted living area. “Fuck it I don’t wanna cook.” His eye twinkled when he looked at Ayleen. A devilish smile brightened his face.  
She knew the smile. She had seen it a thousand times before, it was so familiar it gave her a rush of blissful nostalgia every time she even though about it. She knew his next word exactly, she could feel it growing in his brain, waiting to be spoken in unison with her. Their eyes locked, and with percise pitch and tone; “Pizza.”  
~*<^>*~  
The clock was minutes away from midnight, but the two raccoons didn’t care. Sly Montoya was sitting on the huge black leather couch running his hands through his hair, trying to keep it flat, much to the dismay of his body’s constant swaying. “…Anyway, the guy gets up and yells at me; ‘I’ll squash you, like the insignificant bug that you are!’ he's yelling this in the middle of a theatre, remember,” He laughed, recalling a story. Unbeknownst to Ayleen, this didn’t happen in a theatre, but in a blimp suspended above a huge pirate ship filled with gold and jewels. “Then he – and I swear to God this is real – jumped out of his chair and sucked in his chest and grew three times his size, and- “  
Ayleen was already on her back unable to get up from laughing so hard. “No! Nuh-uh! That can’t happen!”  
Sly coughed, almost choking on his pie slice. “Yes! It's real! This ugly frog dude was so goddamn huge he blocked everybody’s view.” He lied, not too concerned to inform himself why he hadn't told Ayleen his life story yet. Maybe he was afraid that she was too young, maybe he was worried she’d be scared of him. Maybe he was scared of himself.  
“I don’t believe you! Nobody’s that rude!” She said, forcing herself to sit up past her violent laughter. She could see the book she hid just past her father’s feet. Looking back up at him, she lowered her eyebrows. “Right?”  
Sly shook his head. “We’re Danes, sweetheart. This was when I was in England.” He smiled at her, still chuckling.  
She shook her head and hugged her legs, letting her tail wrap around her shins. “Maybe I’d have to see them before I believe that.” She offered coyly. The two of them weren't rich, but they were in no way struggling financially. Sly had gathered a reputation as one of the best officers in town, rumored to be only a few legal papers away from legitimately making it as director of his district. He was helpful and kind, never harsh or rude in his job, and everybody seemed to respect him. And he respected them right back. Whenever he was offered a political or federal position (which was actually quite frequently) he would always decline, happy and content with his current lifestyle. Unfortunately, said lifestyle usually kept him out of the house, and in town. Ayleen has always been a curious girl, and oft found herself dreaming of what the rest of the world looked like. She may have been only seventeen, but whenever she looked at a world map, she felt as if she were eight. Full of hope and wonder.  
She knew her father had toured the majority of the world when he was younger, evidenced by his stories of culture shock mirroring the décor of their home. Chinese charms and drapes, Arabian silk carpets, photographs of old ruins and castles, and several other trinkets and knickknacks from any country imaginable. He had told her that when his parents died they left him a lot of money in their will, and he decided to use it all on expanding his passport’s stamp collection. Ayleen remembered once finding a picture of a much younger persona of her father, surrounded by friends, all making silly faces, in the middle of what looked like a canyon. She had brought it to him and asked what it was, but he simply shrugged it off as a piece of trash. He had used it to light their fire for the night. She was young then, and believed him.  
Sly sighed. He wanted to explore again, she knew it. He wasn’t scared of leaving, she knew. He just had to get back into his younger mindset again. “I don’t know. I’m pretty busy, and…” He was looking at a picture hanging on their wall. It was an aerial view of large green fields. From what Ayleen had learned about his travels, it was a picture of Southern Holland, in the Netherlands. Sly sighed, finally catching his breath. “Well… where would you want to go?” He asked, surpassing a smile.  
Ay tried to remain calm, but all of her suppressed childish joy of exploring the world was finally ready to premier. She quickly jolted up and pulled her phone from her pocket. She knew exactly where she wanted to go to. “Panama!” She excitedly shoved her phone in her father’s face, proudly displaying a bright picture of a beach encircling a line of tall hotels. “The beaches are really beautiful!”  
“Yeah, so’s the poverty…” Sly said under his breath, studying the picture.  
Ayleen pulled back a bit. “Huh?”  
Sly grinned and shook his head. “Aw, nothing. I thought you wanted to explore, not just relax on a beach somewhere, right?”  
Ayleen swiped on her phone a few times then showed him again. This time, it was a shot of a thick green forest. “Why not both?” her dad laughed, and was about to speak again, but was cut off by his phone ringing. He struggled to find it, as it had fallen into the cushions after all their fun. When he did finally pull it out of the cushion’s abyss, he answered, spoke seldom, then hung up abruptly.  
“I think they need me at the station.” He gently kissed Ay on the top of her head. “Now that I think about it, a beach does sound nice.”  
Ayleen nodded, watching him leave. He never was tired or stressed from work, considering how often he was there. Ayleen put her phone away, letting her mind carefully wander back to the strange book she found only hours ago. She was only in his room to see if he was home, but he was long since off to work. Her curiosity being the central functionality of her brain, she wandered into his closet space, eyeing a large black wood chest. Inside were lots of papers ad some photos, but the only thing she took was the tome.  
Extracting the book from her hiding spot, she took a deep breath and sat down. It looked like it had survived a bomb, the only letters even legible on the cover read: “Thievius Raccoonus” Right above a faded blue mask.

ANNOTATIONS  
Its always been a head cannon that every character could speak all of the basic languages (being English, French, German and Spanish.) and now that sly and Ayleen are living in Denmark they learned to speak Danish, but can still communicate in the other four languages.


	3. Chapter Three

****

~~~Where God Went to Die~~~

Sly woke up around two in the morning, a cold twist in his gut pushing him to the balcony. From there, the Eiffel Tower was beautifully lit for all the city to see. Eventually, they slowed down, and the magnificence blue spotlight spinning atop the spike came to a halt. The air surrounding the balcony whispered a quiet goodbye to the show, bringing a smile to sly’s lips. The knot in his belly wouldn't go away though, as seeing the sights of the early morning city and feeling the chilly wing against his fur only reminded him of his final battle with the mechanical owl. It was years ago, and the damage had all been accounted for, the parts all destroyed and the dust all settled. Sly watched Clockwerk die. He had killed him. The fear that now, after all his hard work to keep his family’s legacy voluptuous and alive, he might have seen the birth of the devil too, was almost too much. Sly was afraid. Penelope was still a threat. And thanks to her time machine, Clockwerk was too.  
For the first time since the gang had locked themselves inside a giant battery, sly didn’t know what to do. Everything felt grim. The fight wasn’t over, and now, it just may be worse than it had ever been before. Sly sighed and looked back to see Carmelita still asleep in his bed. She was too good for him, and they both knew it. Sly was a liar, yet Carm still found it in her heart to forgive him. If the gang had to stop Clockwerk yet again, Sly knew it wouldn't be for him. It shouldn't be, anyway. He had saved his family’s name too many times now. He just wanted to keep her safe. He just wanted a family with her. He smiled, reminding himself to stress about his future in the morning, and climbed back into bed with his fox. She hummed and moved her arm to welcome him, still asleep. The raccoon pulled his eyes away from the Paris skyline and back to his fox. 

Chapter Three  


Paris - 2017

In the morning, the four sat around a wooden table, some drinking coffee, some eating breakfast, all discussing what to do about Penelope. Bentley, in between explanations to the others about paradoxes and why they couldn’t just stop her before she showed up, figured it would be wise to get some recon on her still in Egypt, to see if she even stayed there, and if she is working with the owl or not. Murray wanted to return to Egypt with a tricked out van, destroy her tech and capture her in the process. Carmelita seemed to agree with him, but sly was still on the fence.  
“even if we decide to do that, we still would be better off knowing what kind of gig shes running down there. If its even worth it to return. She may have moved on.” Sly sighed.  
The turtle spoke up. “Thank you, Sly, but I doubt it. She wants us… well she wants us dead. And throwing away working with Clockwerk, the guy who literally fed off his hatred for you, would be pretty stupid on her part.” the rest of the gang silently agreed.  
“For all we know,” Carmelita started, rubbing her eyes. “She could have an army. Set up a fort like that Doctor M freak, or have built that bird stronger than it was in our time. I think we need to see what were up against.”  
Bentley nodded. “So its settled?”  
Murray shook his head defensively. “Oh come on! So what if she has a fort!” he stuck his arms out to the table, almost knocking over Sly’s coffee. “We have the Guru! And im sure the Panda dude would still be willing to help us! Maybe we can build another dream team? That was fun, I don’t mind making new friends!”  
Bentley rubbed his eyes, wheeling his chair away from the table. “Then fine! Go make some friends! Sly, come help me out with the van, im sending you back to Egypt!”  
“...Right now?”  
“Yes right now! She could strike at any minute!” he called back to them, now an entire room away. He was obviously still stressed about Penelope working against him, as later told to sly by Carmelita, he would often rant and cry about her in random spurts. Losing her and almost losing sly really put him on edge.  
Carmelita put her hand on Slys wrist when he stood up to follow his friend. “Hey, can we talk?” she seemed concerned when she looked into his eyes.  
The two took a step outside, sly holding his cool while Carm sucked in a deep breath. “Sly… I know that we need to see if Clockwerk is coming back… but please, be careful…” she sighed, holding his hands.  
Sly looked at her confidently. “Miss Fox, staying safe isn't exactly my specialty. That’s why I’ve got you, right?” he chuckled, unlike his concerned partner. “…Right?”  
“Sly…”  
“Why don’t you come with? You want me to be safe, id feel a lot better if you were there,”  
“Sly I don’t think-”  
He squeezed her hands harder. “I don’t wanna throw you away, please don’t think I’m doing this for me, I’m not anymore!”  
She started tearing up. “No I need-”  
“I love you, okay?”  
She took a gulp and looked him dead in the eyes. “Sly Cooper, I’m pregnant.”  
Sly let go of her hands and took a step back. The tears started taking bigger shape as she awkwardly set them on her hips, her fingers twitching. Sly felt his lips quiver, unable to express themselves. Finally, just as Carm was about to speak, sly gripped her in a huge hug, burying his face into her neck, himself starting to cry. All he had ever done to keep his family’s name an important one all seemed so trivial now. The was precisely what he wanted. An overwhelming warmth filled his heart when he felt the fox hug him back, laughing in relief. “Oh god…” He whispered to himself, overcome with joy that finally, he had something better to fight for. Not for the Coopers, not for himself, but for his family. His daughter. His-  
“Ayleen,” Carmelita spoke. “I… for a girl I mean…”  
Sly nodded, hugging her even tighter. “I love it…” he said, tears falling down his face.


	4. Chapter Four

****

~~~Where God Went to Die~~~

Ayleen looked at the pose again and sucked in a deep breath. “Calm down girl. Focus…” she told herself, closing her eyes. After a few minutes of slowing down her mind, she braced herself to try the stunt once again. Left foot first… keep your body straight, only arch your back once you land. You can do this. Ayleen felt her legs gracefully expel her from the ground, keeping her a few feet above the carpet, with her tail steady behind her heels. With her jump, she twisted her body around, careful to keep her momentum in check. When she had made a full three-sixty spin, she almost instinctively raised her arms at equal width to her shoulders, perfectly mirroring the raccoon depicted in the book. She couldn’t read Japanese, but the diagrams were drawn with obvious care, and were descriptive in themselves. Finally, she felt her right foot make contact with the spike. She didn’t have a twenty foot pole like the one used in the book, but she figured an empty umbrella bin would suffice for basic training. It had a thin cage surrounding a nearly two foot rod in its center. If she were to fail again, she’d only hurt her ankle. Fortunately, she felt the rod hit the direct curve of her toes. With her other foot following close behind, landing exactly parallel to her other one, she arched her back to keep her balance. Almost perfectly, her body completely (and gently) stopped moving. Not even the base of the bin shook or wobbled under her weight. The entire time, Ayleen refused to let her breath escape her lungs, but after her success, a loud, happy gasp erupted like a cannon. The sudden shift in her weight forced her to fall backward onto the carpet, but she didn’t care. She had done it. What few English words the page had to offer proudly displayed a few tips in a thin blue ink, but she didn’t need them. She had done it through only the pictures. She had completed what that blue ink had called The Ninja Spire Jump perfectly. And that was only the first page.

Chapter Four  


Denmark - 2035

Sly’s voice was garbled and weak when a fellow officer, a blue jay, helped him through his door, carrying the raccoon by the arm around the bird’s shoulders. Ayleen had seen the car pull up through the windows and had enough time to properly hide the mysterious book by the time she let the two in. The Blue Jay in full uniform set her father down on the couch. “Officer Marsh…” Ayleen started, at first scared for her dad before the realization of Sly’s state replaced her fear with concern. “Is he okay?” She knew the answer was no, but something must have happened to put Sly like this. He was still wearing his street clothes, but his hair was a mess, and he reeked of liquor. His eyes were closed, but she could see wet streaks carve melancholic rivers down his cheeks.  
Marsh wiped the sweat off his forehead and let out a sigh. “Hey Ayleen. He and a couple others went for a drink. Guess he went a little too far.” he spoke. Sly was groggily moving around on the couch, holding his temples and rubbing his forehead like it was about to explode. He was trying to speak, but nothing legible in any known language came out. The most Ayleen got was “Pen…” or “Gun.”  
“He said the station needed him back?” she asked, a bit fearful her dad lied to her to get away from some unseen demon. She figured he would need some water, but she didn’t want to leave his side without an answer.  
Officer Marsh nodded. “Just for some paperwork problems.” He adjusted his belt and sighed again. Sly wasn’t huge, but hauling him in and out of a car must not have been easy. Even for a big bird like Marsh. He had been somewhat of a family friend of the two since Sly helped him set his life out as a cop about a year ago. He wasn’t over often, but whenever Sly and Ayleen would go out to eat or stop by a BBQ party, Marsh was usually right by their side. He wasn’t local, as evidenced by his thick french accent, but his danish was good enough to pass as a born-and-raised. “He wouldn't stop talking about Tahiti. Has he ever been?” he asked innocently.  
“Probably…” Ayleen sighed after sitting down by the raccoon, who had started groaning like he had a fever. “He’s pretty secretive. Doesn't talk about his past much.”  
Marsh shrugged. “No kidding.”he chuckled after a few seconds, trying to lift the mood. “Maybe hes hiding something?” his tiny laughs died quickly when the silence didn’t return his humor.  
Ayleen, not in the mood for jokes anymore, stood up and shook the bird’s hand. “Thank you for taking him home, Julius. You’re a good friend.”  
Marsh took the hint, and shook back. His hand was sweaty, like he was nervous. “Just call if you need me, okay? You guys are my first priority.” he was thanked a second time, and waved to as he drove off. Even though he had joked about it, Ayleen felt a growing worry that maybe her father WAS hiding something. She would be lying if she said she’s never thought about it before, due to Sly’s vaguity of his past. That bizarre martial arts book she found full of thieving and sneaking maneuvers certainly didn’t diminish her theory.  
“Dad?” she asked the raccoon. He rubbed his head, still holding his brain in place, and nodded, somehow able to understand her. “Is…is this about mom?” she knew that bringing it up would only make things worse, but when you’re this close to the bottom, the fall wouldn't hurt much. Sure enough, sly nodded and started breathing heavily. A few tears rolled down his cheek, deepening the rivers, and his lips quivered and twitched. “What happened to her?” Ayleen pushed, holding her dad by his arms. She could almost feel his jagged heartbeat through his skin. His fingers were starting to scratch at his eyelids, and his tail was wrapped tightly around one of his legs. Again, sly wasn’t able to say anything, just weep and breath in a sporadic way. Whenever he opened his mouth, a huge aroma of booze clouded out, like smoke from a chimney. So much so, Ayleen was nervous she might get tipsy just smelling it. Sly enjoyed a drink every now and then, but would never let himself get drunk. This portrait of a once happy and controlled man now crying on the couch scared of his memories must be why.  
Finally, a few audible words emerged admits the drunken sighs. “Penelope… frozen…”  
Penelope? Ayleen thought. She knew her mother’s name wasn’t Penelope. She was pretty sure- tragically, not positive- that it was Spanish. Carmelita? “Who is Penelope?” She asked, expecting no answer, only more groans and tears.  
Surprisingly, Sly looked up at her and held a puzzled face. “…How… you know?” he managed to choke out.  
Ayleen nodded and was about to speak again when her dad rolled over to face away from her, almost seeing her curiosity as a threat and wanting to cover himself from any more questions. She bit her tongue and felt her lips quiver. Its not fair… I deserve to know... “Good night, dad..” she whispered, rubbing her fathers arm. His gray fur was cold and matted. She found a blanket for the raccoon and left a pillow under his head. She wasn’t mad at him, just concerned. She wanted him to be better. Sober, and better. She pushed her way back into her room, sitting down the hall form the living space and past the kitchen. The book was lying under her pillow. Her room, decorated with posters of various music groups and age old knick knacks from her father’s collection. She was actually set up in what might be considered the master bedroom, it being the largest space in the house. She had a walk in closet and a bathroom splitting off from the same room. Two windows allowed the gentle blue lights from the city skyline in the distance to seep in perfectly. A warm breeze pushed her curtains with a stoic sway to welcome her in. Any other night, she would have found this to be perfect to make some tea and read some cheesy romance novel, but tonight, everything seemed to annoy her. Plus, she had another book she was preoccupied with. She locked her door, slammed her windows, drew her curtains and didn’t bother undressing herself for bed. All she could do to take her mind off her mother, was to read her father’s mysterious tome. She had skimmed through every page before, but had only really studied the first few chapters. The ones she seemed drawn to were the ones that featured the blue ink. One appearance of the inking was in a chapter detailing a raccoon stealing the wallet out of a silhouette’s pocket. The ink read;  
Better with larger targets, as they have a tendency to focus on walking more than their six. Focus on keeping a tail’s length behind them. Avoid their tails though.  
Ayleen noticed the ink to stand out from the pages, as if it was added more recently than the diagram itself. Probably true, as most of the wording in the book was Arabic or some kind of hieroglyphic alphabet. English being the youngest actually-printed-in-the-book language fit with the text. “Is this you, dad?” she asked aloud, running her fingers over the ink, recognizing some similarities with the calligraphy and her father’s signatures.  
Finally, she found something to help her understand. Something that horrified her, something completely unexpected. It was a large photograph of a robotic owl, snarling right through the frames. The only thing written on the page was in English, and with that blue ink.

_"I did it dad, I killed him. I finally avenged you and won back our honor. I don’t know what I’ll do with it yet, but I could feel your presence with me every step of my way. I wont let you down. The cooper legacy will live on.  
~ Sly Cooper, July 25th 2002"_


	5. Chapter Five

** ** ** **~~~Where God Went to Die~~~** **

** **

Bentley wiped the sweat off his brow, adjusting his glasses and biting his lower lip with reluctance in his sighs. He had modified the time machine to function outside of the van, now condensed in a tiny metallic disc. The device had a number pad to input dates, a stiff center button to confirm the travel, and sported indented green-lit lines around the rim. He had strapped the device to Sly’s cane, its bizarre shape against the hilt of the carefully crafted staff made for an awkward balance, as it was also heavily weighted.

“So, no more artifacts from the time period?” Sly asked, toying with his now improperly balanced cane, trying to readjust to the form.

Bentley scoffed. “That was… just a phase… lets not talk about it.” Sly shrugged; as long as it worked, he couldn’t care how. The news of Carmelita’s pregnancy was the only thing on his mind. There was even a small part of him that didn’t want to bother with Penelope until she showed face as a major threat. However, the problem with that level of procrastination, was once she reemerged with Clockwerk, shed be a bigger evil then the gang had ever faced before. When Neyla stole the Clockwerk body (and almost killed Bentley), it was easy enough to shut her down. Her vengeful mind, in an ironic twist, couldn’t handle all the power and hate she had stolen. She could barley fight, drunk with fury and high with malicious aspirations. Penelope, however, __knew__ what she was doing. She had the capacity for hate, the drive for power, and the smarts to take over the world. On top of the fact she could move anywhere in time, redo any mistakes and reattempt any failures with the simple push of a button, her current position practically made her a god. Maybe, like Neyla, she would want to become Clockwerk. Maybe she wanted to make an army of them. M _ _aybe she’s given up.__ Sly joking hoped. He knew she wouldn't do that. Evil people never gave up when all the odds were in their favor. When offered a ride up the proverbial mountain, smart people don’t chose to climb. Especially not when hate is their only motivation. Clockwerk __didn’t__ hate, Clockwerk __was__ hate. A furious fire, hell-bent on destroying the Coopers. And Penelope was a genius child with a can of gas and a camera.

Bentley wheeled over to his friend. “Just… don’t hurt her. Don’t even engage her, just get a look at what she has going on.” he spoke, attempting to hide the quiver in his voice. It was clear he still loved her, even if he hid it behind his urge to keep the future in tact.

“Classic reconnaissance mission, eh?” Sly smirked, trying to cheer his friend up. It seemed to work. “What year exactly? I was in thirteen hundred, right?”

“No Sly, that's the fourteenth century. You were in 1320 BCE. Around June, exactly.” The turtle responded, adjusting the date on the disc after Sly lowered it down to him. “Try 1315 BCE first. Five years after she arrived.”

Sly looked at the date on the device and nodded. “I’ll stop by the gift shop, send you a postcard.”

Bentley hesitated on a retort, awkwardly smiling. “…I… I think you’ve used that one before.” he spoke past a raised eyebrow.

Sly rolled his eyes, mostly in annoyance with himself. “I cant keep track anymore. Maybe I’m getting old?”

“You’re in your thirties.”

“...Oh. Right.” Sly didn’t attempt to hold back on lightly laughing. The mission ahead could be deadly, and no doubt horrific. It was good to smile before jumping into the abyss, he thought. “Okay,” he sighed, fixing his hair. His hat was probably still buried under some sand back in Egypt, and Sly was actually a little unconfident without the thing. Nevertheless, he nodded. “I’m ready.”

Bentley smiled “Be safe, Sly. Your kid needs a dad.”

Sly stopped, almost forgetting to breathe. “You… you know?”

Bentley nodded. “I’m a genius, Sly. Hard for me not to know, honestly.” he grabbed his friend’s arm reassuringly. “Sorry you couldn’t surprise me.” Sly nodded and put his hand over his friend’s.

“Just keep Carmelita from following me?”

“Of course.” The turtle smiled honestly.

Sly nodded and sucked in a breath. “Alright. See you… well, in a few seconds, I guess.”

“Be safe, ‘Duck’.”

“No problem, ‘Wizard’.” Sly smiled as he pressed the button, keeping his eyes open. Bentley was quick to let go, careful not to be swept up in the bright misty green light that circled the raccoon. Sly felt the air grow hot, and the soft smell of a well kept house faded away, replaced with the sting of fire and mud. Light started to shine through the green haze, and Sly felt his feet slightly sink into the sand materializing below him. When the fog finally dissipated, Sly was standing in the shade of a few trees circling a small, dusty pond of water. About a hundred feet in front of him was a tall metal wall beefed up with barbed wire and several spotlights, all scanning the ground for activity like vultures waiting for a corpse. “…Another day, another fortress.” the raccoon sighed.

** **

****Chapter Five** **

****Ancient Egypt- 1315 BCE** **

****

Sly perched cross-legged atop a tall watchtower, the flat roofing giving him enough space to sit, unnoticed and somewhat comfortable. The defenses along the wall served a perfect warning for what defence lay inside, but ultimately proved no threat. Nothing could top what Dr. M had set up around the Cooper Vault. Sly was almost ashamed for Penelope for not taking notes while she was there.

From his position, Sly could observe several armed guards prowling the area, keeping the entire stronghold secure. They toted large twenty-first century firearms, strange helmets with green visors, and always traveled in pairs, watching each others back with careful (or paranoid) diligence. The once white buildings chiseled out of soapy marble had all been completely remodeled with dusty metal into a military boot-camp. A huge sectioned area of the hold housed various machines, and featured a dozen engineers welding pieces scrap metal to more scrap metal. An occasional voice via a loudspeaker would inform of reports of the area, and even reminded the guards to be on the lookout for a raccoon. __She__ knew he was coming.

It felt bizarre to Sly, who had only been away for not twenty four hours, to see the entire village rebuilt into what would take decades to construct. He had to remind himself that it actually HAD been a few years since he and the gang tore their way home. Even with the flow of time under her thumb, Penelope must have called in a few favors from her time. Several non-Egyptian animals, like bears and tigers, littered the scene, all barking orders in English and sporting current day quasi-official uniforms. The wall of the fortress seemed to have ran for a few miles, as the more Sly looked around, the more there was than the last time he looked, as if the hold was materializing right in front of him.

Sly made sure to snap a few photos of points of interest; the scrap yard where workers would assemble turrets and spotlights, ammunition stockpiles, stairs and ladders along the wall, and the undoubtedly finest tourist attraction; A giant staircase leading up to Clockwerk’s domicile. The only structure seemingly untouched by Penelope and her mechanical gentrification, if one was to ignore the forty some-odd guards standing on every step of the path. Huge rifles hung from their arms, ready to fire on the drop of a pin. Sly knew Penelope would be inside, ergo, the horrifying assent into Clockwerk’s lab, as well as the threat of staring into the bird’s hateful eyes was inevitable. Sly got one final photo of the guards.

Setting his camera down, the raccoon sighed and laid himself down in his back. He knew security would only thicken come nightfall, but the blanket of dark comforted Sly more than the piercing rays of the sun ever could. All of his other heists were done at night, why should this one be any different just because the stakes were higher? As the tiny clouds rolled over the pink Egyptian sky, all Sly could find himself thinking about, was Carmelita, and what it would be like to raise a child with her. “Step one, I need to marry her.” he smiled to himself. Secretly, he hoped for a daughter. Something he had always wanted to do was call himself the father of a badass Amazonian warrior. To see the girl he held on his shoulders stand up for whats right and take down the evils of the world, just as he did, would be euphoric. “Ayleen…” he repeated back to himself. __What a perfect name.__   

A loud beeping sound broke through Sly’s mind into his day dream. Shortly after the intrusion, a metallic voice, soaked in a deep German accent, blared through the intercom. “Doctor Vikkoran, your assistance is requested in the operating room. Repeat; Doctor Vikkoran to the operating room.” Sly sat up and looked around for something resembling a hospital, eventually grunting when none were seen. However, he did spot the pillar of guards along Clockwerk’s steps part one by one, letting a cheetah adorned in all white clothing pass through. When the cheetah reached the top, he held his hands behind his head, while a final guard inspected him, concluding with a firm tug on the cats tail. When he was done, they let the doctor through.

“Operating room, huh?” Sly asked aloud, letting his mind race like stallions with wild images of Clockwerk’s mortal flesh being cut from his bones, replaced by cold heartless machinery. “I guess you really are in there, Penelope.” he sighed, scratching his neck nervously. “And you’re building yourself a friend…”

The intercom screeched to life again. __Yeesh…__ Sly thought grumpily. __She invented time travel, can she not invest in better speakers?__

 “And a reminder for the rest of you,” The German voice continued, with or without the thief’s approval. “the raccoon we spotted is still threat, and priority number one. Stay alert, and shot to kill. Carry on.”

It shouldn't have, but that scared Sly down to his bones. He just got there, have they already spotted him? And if they did, how come they didn’t sound any alarms? They weren't referring to the first time Sly was there, five years ago, were they?

The raccoon tried his best to shake the thought out of his head, re-railing his train of thought with plans of how to break into the operating room and get Penelope in his sight. __C’mon ring-tail… think like Bentley. Distraction… no, they'll know its me.__ Sly stressed his brain to find any kind of sliver of strategic thought that would help him. He had gotten too used to this being Bentley’s job, he was drawing nothing but blanks. __Disguise? Too risky. Maybe I can make them paranoid I’m disguised… make them fight. But how? I don’t need to even go out there, just find an air-vent or something…__ Finally, an ‘Or-something’ walked right into the open.

Three guards, tall and muscular, helped carry a huge box of cogs and bolts. Scrap metal bins lay about the entire stronghold, either being dug into by workers reinforcing the areas defenses, or lying dormant, waiting for use. They were plentiful and fit with the scenery so well they might as well have been the decoration. The box lucky enough to be manhandled by the three brutes was placed on a kind of lift system. A fourth guard wrote something down on a clipboard and hit a key or two on a computer next to him. The lift descended and he spoke with the deliverers. From the position of the lift, and how the guards waited for the empty box to come back up the shaft left Sly to believe the scrap had descended to the operating room. Or something close nearby, at least. The guards took the box and walked into a building halfway across camp.

Now thoroughly hidden in the cold draw of night, Sly prepared to leap onto an electrical wire running to the guarded building, when a metallic voice, infinitely more intimidating than the loudspeaker, spoke from behind him.

“Paradox, was it?”

Sly spun around and in a blind panic brought the force of his cane with him. His body stumbled when the cane was brought to an immediate halt. The raccoon was used to building off the momentum carried when the cane struck and passed by something, but when the large robotic mouth completely stopped the cane, all Sly could do to keep himself from falling off the roof was grip his cane with both his hands desperately. Staring down at the clumsy mess with an almost amused smile, was Clockwerk. Not the one Sly had just met, but the horrifying metal monster he killed all those years ago. Fully robotic, piercing yellow eyes and horrible digitized voice brought Sly back on the worst nostalgia trip he could ever imagine. The hateful stare, the menacing reach of his wings, the criminally quiet squeak and groan of his shifting gears, there was no mistaking it. Whatever the bird had been before now, was dead. An evil destined to be born, finally, and somehow firstly, face to face with his eventual murderer. It was all set from there, all that had happened and all that was yet to, like clockwork.

Sly yanked his cane from the beak of the menace and took a pose, ready to strike. His cane was strong enough to crush the metal before, this time should be no different. Sly’s gut was a horrible cocktail of fear, anxiety, and determination. He needed to stop Penelope, and this was just his first roadblock.

Strangely, the bird didn’t strike first, or take to the air, or show any sign of impending struggle. He simple perched himself, adjusting his wings by pulling them closer to him. His eyes, for the first time Sly had ever seen, rested at a cold green color. The bird seemed to laugh. “Relax yourself, Paradox.”

Sly only gripped his cane tighter. “Where is Penelope?” he asked flatly.

Clockwerk pointed a wing towards the tall staircase. “You’re sneaky enough to work out a way inside. You’re a skilled enough fighter to kill her. But are you strong enough to fight her body-guards?” his eyes darkened. “are you foolish enough to fight me?”

Sly shook his head, still ready to fight. “I’m not here to kill her. I just need to stop her.”

The bird didn’t move when he spoke, keeping his head low as to keep the motion of his jaw shadowed. “Why would you want to stop her? What rivalry do you have with her?”

Sly felt his heart skip a beat. She must have told the bird all about the Coopers, all about Sly and his friends. Who and where they were, how to kill them. Sly shook the thoughts to clear his mind and stared the bird in his soulless eyes. “Shes evil. In my time…” Sly took a deep breath, spinning a story close enough to the truth to win over the bird, blindly hoping his mind was still malleable enough to listen to reason. “…she hurts people. She betrayed me and my family. She helped someone horrible, she-”

“the Coopers.”

Sly paused, feeling his fears come true. “What all did she tell you?” Sly always considered a tense conversation to be like a chess game. Both sides are planning out strategies, carefully working and plotting different scenarios, scheming how to stay on top, how to win. Even the smallest word could lose Sly the game. Understanding how much the monster knew about him seemed like the safest play to make.

“She told me everything,” the bird spoke

__Shit._ _

“Everything about the Coopers.”

__Its all over._ _

“Everything about you…”

Sly felt his breathing uneven, like one lung was working harder than the other.

“...Cyrille La Paradox,”

__Huh?_ _

“Master thief and arch-nemesis of the Cooper clan.” the bird spoke. The way his words were spoke carried little diction, but Sly could sense the lack of sarcasm. “she told me how they held her captive, made her make them a time machine.” the birds eyes were green. Sly felt more worried than ever. “how you stole it. Tried to kill her.”

Sly let slip a nod. __Play his game, ring-tail, if hes lying, nothings changed… if hes serious…__ “Okay…”

The bird raised his head, finally allowing Sly to see the movement of his beak with each metal word he spoke. “She didn’t want to hurt you. She knows you do her, though. That’s why I cant let you in.”

 _ _Play his game.__ “…In my time…” Sly sighed. “she hurt people, no cooper told her to do that.” __its a bluff, why would Penelope lie to hum?”__

The bird chuckled. “From her stories, it seems that's __all__ the Coopers do. Even the thief in my time, Slytukhamen. Hes a thief, a rapist, a murderer.”

Sly couldn't imagine any of his ancestors doing that. Especially Slytukhamen, the creator of the Thevious Racconus. He held an iron-willed belief system. He only stole from master thieves, he chose to hurt no one, he was noble… __Wasn’t he?__  “That cant be true… They're thieves… but… the Coopers aren't bad people.”

The bird stayed motionless. “You are a thief, much like a cooper. You wish to kill, much like a cooper. Do you also wish to live like one?”

Sly, keeping to his chess game strategy, chose to play it safe. “what do you mean?” __he cant think this. Hes a thief too, he said so back in Russia…__

“Penelope has gifted me with immortality, only asking for one favor in return. I stop the cooper line from ever reaching its climax of tyranny.” he spoke slowly, seeming to test the waters. “And if you attempt to stop me…” the eyes shone yellow, almost like spotlights running right into Sly’s eyes, he had to squint to still make out the birds outline against the black sky. His wings were expanding, Sly knew he had to act quick to avoid a fight.

“I’m not trying to stop you, just…” the raccoon let his stature take on a less hostile stance. His cane even lowered to his hip. “just hear me out, okay?”

The bird seemed to think. His eyes weren't as bright as they had been, but they remained their heinous yellow. “Do you wish to convince me?”

Sly gave a fake laugh, trying to keep on the owls good side. “All I’m trying to say is maybe don’t take it all on the faith of one angry mechanic?” The bird didn’t move. “I’m not a Cooper, Penelope would have told you, right?” still no movement. “if she hates the Coopers so adamantly, why wouldn't she tell you?” __yeah Sly, why WOULDNT she tell him?__  “All I’m saying is, maybe she just got a few bad apples of the Cooper bunch?” the bird seemed to pull his head back and looked at the horizon. “They're thrives, yeah… but not bad people.”

The bird seemed to realize the Raccoon was right. Or at least believe his lies.“Is there a difference?” he asked, almost solemnly.

Sly would be lying is he said he didn’t think about that one. His entire life, he was brought up on the moral that stealing was warranted only to those who earned their riches dishonestly. There was nothing wrong with hurting those who hurt others, the raccoon thought. “Yes. There is.” Sly took a deep breath, knowing that it would be a lot to convince the bird, but there was still a possibility he could listen to reason. He may have already become the full mechanical terror that plagues the cooper line, but if Sly played his cards right… he could change all that… he knew that would only cause a paradox, but if there was a chance to set the future right… give him back his father, then Sly would take it. “Common thieves, they steal to live… but some thieves, they steal to keep balance. If every bad person always got away with their crimes… well, trust me, you don’t want to see that future.”

The bird almost shrugged, trying to find his words. __Its working, my god.__  “Why do you defend them so much? Penelope led me to believe your family hated the Coopers,”

Sly smiled, the bird was still staring at the skyline, so Sly knew he was safe. “Well, like I said; don’t put all of your trust in some angry mechanic.”

The bird growled. “Are you saying she lied to me?”

“I’m saying there's a lot she excluded from her stories. Lots she didn’t tell you… for example, betcha she didn’t tell you this one,” Sly was actually entirely unsure if she did or not, but he needed to win this chess game. If Clockwerk was bluffing, then the raccoon was about to fight fire with fire. “In my time… there is one called Clockwerk. Hes a thief.” the bird shot him a horrified glare. The shock seeming to settle in his movements, jerky and unpredicted.

“Impossible!” he knew the raccoon was referring to him.

Sly nodded and leaned on his cane. “You tried in vein to destroy all the Coopers, something about wanting to be the only master thief. You almost succeeded, too.” Sly might have felt he was giving away too much, but watching the owls body language, Sly felt powerful. “You died at the hands of the only one you were unable to kill, reeling in the horror that you wasted your immortality trying to prove yourself.” he lied.

The bird shook his head and mumbled to himself. “Impossible! Penelope made me indestructible! You… you lie to me, paradox!”

“Your body is then sold, to be used in criminal spice production!” Sly yelled back.

“You are working with them! Sent back to stop me!”

“GODDAMMIT I’M HERE TO HELP YOU!” Sly lied, and grabbed his cane again, feeling his arms and legs move through the cold air with a primal lack of control. The bird flinched, an his eyes dimmed to the luminosity of a lightning bug. “You could have been something better! You could have helped so many! Do you know how long it takes us to reach the technological level you’re on right now? You could have pushed innovation thousands of years into the future, but you spent your time hiding in the shadows, wasting your finite eternity on trying to kill a few thieves. If you don’t want my help, fine, but know I wont let you kill innocent people!” the words dropped out of Sly's mouth like saliva, all thought and logic let go from his head. He was speaking from his heart, digging up old shower thoughts and retrospective hopes he had never given serious concern to before. It came naturally, like he had done it a million times before. “If I have to go through your entire militia and take Penelope out myself I… I will…” he finally slowed down, noticing how fast he had been breathing and how hard he had been grabbing his cane, enough that he could feel his joints lock and crack with a flex of his fingers. “I wont let you…” he said, confidence finally absconding his brain back into his gut, replaced by cold doubt. He knew he couldn’t win a fight against the hold, much less a young Clockwerk, but he had to bluff.

The bird seemed to think for a few moments. Finally, he spoke. “Show me.”

“...W-what?”

Clockwerk flapped his wings, like he was stretching tired muscles, clearly an impossibility. “If they aren't bad people… just… __just__ thieves… then show me how good they are.”

It was Sly’s turn to be shocked. “Like… time travel with you? To see them?”

The bird nodded. “I don’t wish to talk with them. If its true as you say, they should recognize me and attack.” the bird’s face was as motionless as stone. “We can observe from a distance. How dd you put it? ‘Hide in the shadows’?” he flapped his wings again, this time, no doubt, to intimidate.

Sly took another deep breath. If he actually went along with it… no, he couldn’t. he needed to tell Bentley about what Penelope was doing. Then they could attack, the the mess would be over with. __But… they would have attacked by now… unless they're about to… or… if we got rid of him, would we even need to time travel back to here? If he never existed, then…__  It hurt Sly to think about how easily he could mess up the entire future at that moment. A cold creeping feeling hit Sly’s spine. __He is__ ** _ ** _supposed_**_** _ _to hate the coopers. He is__ ** _ ** _supposed_**_** _ _to kill my father, he is__ ** _ ** _supposed_**_** _ _to terrorize me every night… I’m…__ ** _ ** _supposed_**_** _ _to kill him in Russia. Could I really let him reign all his terror, just to save the “correct” Time flow? If I do…__

Sly nodded. He came this far, and the bird did seem intrigued in Sly’s point. Perhaps that was just a farce, a means to some sinister end. Sly was confidant he wouldn’t fully change the bird, but if any good could come of the horrible situation he was in, then Sly needed to go for it. If for no one else, he knew he had to endure this pain for his Child. __Ayleen__. “Okay…” he said a bit nervously at first, but then confident the second time. “Okay. When?”

 

****Medieval Europe- 1300** **

****

Dark were the skies over the gray castle walls, the Raccoon and the Owl occupying a cracked and decaying perch along the south of the hold.

“...Thirteen hundred.” Sly answered.

“Fifteen years? Only?” the bird asked, scanning the environment, its grassy Fields and lush stretches of forest a brand new world to him.

“No, thirteen hundred AD.”

Clockwerk scoffed. “AD?”

Sly smirked. “There's this guy coming up in just a bit in your time, hes gonna do a whole lot about the future.”

“...Jesus Christ?”

“H-how did… you- oh right. Penelope.”

“She has informed me quite a bit of the future.”

Sly sat down and leaned his back against part of the wall. “Then how did you know about Allah? That was before she got there that you told me…”

The bird chuckled. “Do your __future scholars,__ ” he said with sarcastic scorn. “time travel to lean more of the history they record?”

“I doubt it. I think only Penelope and I have one.”

“Then there is no sure way to know when an idea is born, or a figure is worshiped, true?”

Sly thought for a minute. He hated to admit it, but the bird was right. “Theoretically.”

The bird nodded, still searching the environment. “On the subject, do you consider yourself a scholar?”

Sly shook his head. “Writing gives my hand cramps. I’m more of an on-foot kind of guy.”

“A traveler.” The bird said affirmatively.

“Its why I’m here, actually. A scholar wouldn't have the guts to do all this.”

The bird laughed. “Perhaps not. A scholar would try to disprove a skeptic’s word of what happened in the past. You don’t do that.” he laughed even louder, stirring a twist in Sly’s gut. “You try to disprove a skeptic’s word of what __is__ to happen! In the future!” The owl really seemed to be getting a kick out of the irony.

Sly gave a courtesy laugh, and shrugged, out of sight of the bird.

Clockwerk, apparently bored of the grass, studied the sky. “You know, I thought you were lying to me, the first time we met.”

“About the time travel?” __or about the Le Paradox thing?__

“I thought it was impossible. But these past three times I’ve seen you, you’ve never seemed to age. And here we are, eons in my future… eons in your past. It all still feels… unearthly, one might say.”

“Uh, three times?”

The bird laughed. “Ah, how confusing it must be to live simultaneously with history. Yes, you were present for one of my… operations.”

Sly nervously stared at the monster to his left, just within striking distance, if the raccoon developed a sudden death wish. “I… was there?”

“well, you were no guest. Stowed away in the rafters of the operating room like a feral rodent.”

“Ah.” __Mental note… looks like I have to sneak in there anyways. Guess that explains why the fort was on red alert.__

Clockwerk seemed anxious, maybe he hadn’t triumphed over Sly in conversation for a while, and grew frustrated. “Where is this knight you spoke of? I see no raccoon.”

Sly sat forward and watched the ground, sitting almost comfortably with the man, nay, the machine that nearly destroyed his family. __Almost__ comfortably. “He’ll show up sooner or later.”

The bird growled. “Thieves prefer the dark to blanket their lifestyles. Why would a knight stoop to such dishonorable levels?”

Sly thought about that one. “Sometimes the best way to make a corrupt system right is to infiltrate it, I guess…”

“You guess?” Asked Sly’s family’s murder, with mirth in his slow growl.

__Son of a bitch._ _

The machine growled again, louder this time. “You still believe they're doing the right thing. How much do you know of them, if you truly aren’t their kin?”

“...You asked if I’m a scholar,” Sly took in a deep breath, knowing full well he just put himself at a disadvantage. “The only stories of historical figures I’ve ever really taken interest in were the Coopers… they’re like…”

“Heroes to you?” the bird asked, growling a third time.

“They did the right thing. So yes. Heroes.”

“Every battle has two sides. No one does what they do because they think they are wrong or evil. One man’s hero is another man’s tyrant.” the birds eyes flashed red, and his vision locked onto a shadow moving across the Fields. The bird had found it’s prey. “And tyrants are all the same. Murders, liars…” Sly saw the shadow too, and noticed the fur patters nearly lost to the distance. “…Thieves.” the last word struck Sly through such cold malice that the raccoon thought it actually carried some wicked chill. The slow, agonizing movements of the bird brought back all feelings of doom and fear the time traveler thought he had abandoned. Sly refused take his gaze off his ancestor, out of primordial fear that Clockwerk wasn’t looking at the shadow in the Fields, but at him.

Sly’s voice may have quivered, but his words stuck to their guns. “All tyrants are thieves… okay. But not all thieves-”

Sly was cut off in shock, as the shadow the two had been watching approached another one. Sly was sure Galleth was just going to lift a few coins from what looked like a farmer, but something inside his heart said otherwise. A cold realization that Galleth had just struck the farmer in the back of the head was all Sly needed to see to feel that ever present wash of fear. It was becoming almost familiar.

__Almost._ _

Galleth looked to be looting the body, before running back off into the trees. Clockwerk laughed. “Are tyrants.” he grimly finished Sly sentence, just to twist the knife the raccoon had accidentally stabbed himself with.

Sly said nothing. A conflicting rise of emotions, a civil war in his mind was brewing. He felt scared that Clockwerk had just made his point. He felt ashamed that Galleth would kill someone like that… he felt remorse, as suddenly, for the first time in his life, he thought about all the lives HE must have taken, ever since he was a teenager…“No, he just knocked him out…” He said absently, if only to mindlessly convince the bird he was still present. He thought of his own brawls throughout the years, and remembered that many times, a pre-emptive strike, rendering some poor unsuspecting guard unconscious, was just another part of his day to day life. Some of those times, if he thought about them statistically, he had to have hurt someone just enough to pull them under. Statistically, he’s __had__ to have killed somebody. __No… I’ve just knocked them… out…__  He told himself slowly.

The bird hunched over, the same way he did when he told Sly to climb on top of him so they could see the future. Sly recognized immediately, but was a second slow to mount the machine. Be it fear he was wrong, or the stomach churning sensation of clutching to the bird’s back as it tore through the sky, he hesitated. “Come now, Paradox.” Clockwerk’s voice carried a victorious hiss. “the body is getting cold.”

Sly hated climbing the bird, and there in Europe, seconds after watching his great grandfather murder a farmer, marked the fourth time he had to. The raccoon found it a bit odd that the first two times, he had killed the monster only moments later, and now, they were on a road trip. __This time travel stuff is ridiculous…__ he thought as he hoisted himself between the enormous wings of the monster. In truth, Sly was surprised the time travel radius was enough to swallow Clockwerk, with his huge frame. Sly didn’t understand how the tiny green disc knew to expand to account for the sudden increase in size, nor was he entirely grateful for it. __What am I doing… I need to get back to Bentley.__ He thought as the bird lifted himself off the wall.

In a short, but windy minute, they landed themselves in the fields, eyeing the twitching body just at the bottom of the hill. Sly threw himself off the bird and started to run to the farmers aid when the machine stopped him, throwing out a huge wing in the raccoon's path.

“Hes still alive, I don’t think hes gonna-” Sly started looking up at the bird, then back to the farmer.

The body of the rat was soaked in his own blood, clearly convulsing and fighting for breath with what few slivers of life he still had in his lungs, illuminated by the cold blue moonlight. Visible through the stalks of grass, was the huge gash wound left by Sir Galleth Sly wouldn't have believed it, he he not witnessed it. The rat didn’t make a sound, no doubt conserving his energy for his arms, twitching as he tried to pick himself up. Sly was about to scream at Clockwerk for not intervening when the bird laughed. “What is it you said seconds before we left?”

 Sly knew what he was referencing. He also knew Clockwerk was going to say it, slowly and with malicious intent. The rat had finally moved his torso just enough to prop a leg under him, but after a few seconds of shaking and quivering in the cold, let out a barely audible squeak and rolled over on his side, the gash wound painting the green grass red.

“ _ _Don’t interfere. It could cause a paradox__.” the metal monster finally finished, with a high pit h in his voice to mock his companion. He eventually lowered his wing.

Sly remained motionless, knowing it was too late. The rat was murdered right in front of Sly, by his own “noble” ancestor. He wanted to justify it somehow. Maybe by lying and saying this farmer was actually an assassin in hiding… but any reason he could think up, any heinous person he could assign to the dead rat, Sir Galleth already was, at least in the yellow eyes of Clockwerk. The blood that murdered that poor farmer, just for the gold in his pocket, was the blood that ran in Sly’s veins. The very same blood that felt icy in that moment.

The bird must have had all the fun he had wanted to have that night. He scoffed and adjusted his feet restlessly. “So, Le Paradox… any other Coopers you look up to?”

Sly knew that he couldn’t kill Clockwerk. It would mess up the timeline, throw all of Sly’s hard work in the trash. Decades of keeping the coopers respected and remembered would all burn away with the rest of history, like a farmer, murdered in his fields, if Sly were to get rid of the bird now. __Be the hero Sly, killing him might save the coopers, but who knows what would happen to… Ayleen…__

Sly hung his head high. Determined to prove the bird wrong. Maybe Galleth was just the worse example. There were hundreds of truly noble Coopers out there. And Sly had all the time in the world. “Yes.” he said confidently, climbing back onto the bird, a new mix of determination brewing in his gut, almost excited to show how good a thief could be.

 _ _Almost__.

 Clockwerk seemed excited too, as he took off into the air, gaining altitude and speed when the raccoon punched the next date into his cane.

Sly smiled. ___I’m doing this for you, Ayleen. For you, and for your mother.___


	6. Chapter Six

** ** ** **~~~Where God Went to Die~~~** **

** **

****Chapter Six** **

****Denmark - 2035** **

****

The faint smell of fire reached Ayleen before the sound of her father’s footsteps did. The pine tinted scent of the smoke always used to cheer her up, but that morning, knowing it was her father who made it, she only felt sick.

“Who was she?” Ayleen asked him the second he came through the door.

“Uh…” The raccoon looked confused. Hungover, and confused. “who’s… who?”

Ayleen, ready to finally confront her father for keeping the doors to his past shut, crossed her arms defensively. She always saw people do that while angrily questioning someone. It was a stupid idea she thought, but she figured she’d seem more professional if she looked the part too. “Penelope?” Sly's face fell from one of surprise to a grim, depressed shadow. “Was she my mother? And what the hell is the deal with Tahiti?” she couldn’t hold her posture anymore, neither physical nor mental, and she threw her arms up and started speaking off the top of her head. She had been running questions about her father’s past life for as long as she could comprehend he had one, and everyday would grow more and more frustrated he kept her out. Finally, she had an excuse to learn more. She had leverage, the old book she stole from him. “Gods, why don’t I know anything about you? I always thought my mother’s name was-”

“Tahiti?” Sly interjected, looking suddenly scared.

“Yeah. You were mumbling about this Penelope lady in Tahiti… or something, or-”

Sly grabbed her by the shoulders, digging his fingers into her clothing, and stared her in her eyes. His gaze was bloodshot and twitchy, and his nostrils flared so large Ayleen thought they would crack. “What did I say? __How much__  did I say?” When she didn’t answer, he shook her harshly, stopping only to match eyes with her again. “Answer me! What did I say about Pen-” He stopped, seeing past the eyes he locked with, seeing the primal fear drowning in her mind. She had stopped breathing, and her pupils were the the size of a sand grain. Sly let go of his daughter, feeling the muscle tension in her arms refuse to put its guard down as he loosened his grip. “I…” he took a few steps back, but stopped when his tailbone smashed into the wall. He lost his balance, and quickly slid himself down to sit on the floor, grabbing his head for stability. Ayleen slowly and cautiously started breathing again, and sat on her bed, trying, but failing, to hold back her tears. “I’m sorry, Ayleen, I-”

“Dad,” his daughter said miserably. “Its not fair, that you don’t tell me anything about her… she was my mother, I need to know more about who you were, I don’t like feeling like you're-” she stopped herself, looking her father in his fire-yellow eyes. “…someone who isn't my father.” What she said may have sounded strange in retrospect, but from what little she knew of the raccoon she called her dad, Ayleen wasn’t ruling out the possibility she wasn’t his real daughter. She __was__ a raccoon, but her warmer pelt color, strange fur patterns, pointed ears, and skinnier figure all contrasted with Sly pretty heavily. She wasn’t implying she was kidnapped, but with what little she knew about him, and therefor herself, it was just another grim possibility.

Sly immediately pushed himself up to sit by his daughter. Ayleen was a bit hesitant, instinctively resisting as per the sting of Sly’s grasp still lingered. She quickly overcame the fear, as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a hug. She leaned into his shoulder, sobbing softly against his shirt, herself digging her fingers into his back, frustrated she was still a scared child in the eyes of who she was trying to confront, but ultimately comforted in his arms. Sly was crying too, his tears falling on the back of her neck as he stroked her hair and whispered into her ear. After a long while of crying and holding each-other, the two pulled away and sat in silence. Sly kept a gentle hand on her shoulder, rubbing circles against her back. Finally, Sly spoke up. “So… what all… did I say? Exactly?”

Ayleen doubted she was going to get an answer, but also figured that if her father, by some divine rarity, really was going to open up and be honest about his past, she needed to be forward about her feelings. “You were mumbling pretty bad. I couldn’t really make out what, but Julius said you were rambling about Tahiti.” Sly nodded, following the story, no doubt trying to make out the Blue Jay from his hazy memory. “Then at home, you said ‘Penelope’ a few times.” Sly nodded calmly, but his gaze shot all over the room. “I asked you what you meant, and you got defensive… then, yanno… sad again.”

Sly rubbed her back for a few more seconds, then stopped when he spoke. “So I didn’t really explain anything?”

She knew what was coming next. “…Nope.”

“Good.”

Ayleen nodded in frustration. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she growled through teary eyes and clenched teeth.

Sly’s hand shot from her back and to his lap, defensively. “Hey!”

Ayleen wiped her tears and stood up. Her father yelled something, but she couldn’t hear him. She reached under her pillow and threw the heavy, leathery tome at her dad. He caught it and gave it a fearful glance before looking up at his daughter in furious, confused, horror. “Where did you get this?”

“I stole it dad. From you!” His daughter screamed. Sly stood up and eyed the book again, biting his lip so hard it cracked and started gushing dark red blood. He didn’t seem to notice. “That’s what you were, right? That’s where you got all your cool shit from, huh?” she was screaming, but through the gruff in her voice, she couldn’t feel her tears anymore, so she counted it as a good idea. “If that was what you were so ashamed of you could have-” she stopped herself when her dad took the book out of the room, slamming the door on his exit. She chased after him, dramatically throwing the door open just in time to see her father toss the book into the living room fireplace, seemingly without a second thought.

“No!” She yelled, throwing herself to her knees, helpless to the inflamed pages. All she could do was watch, as the cracked leather of the book curled and darkened under the hateful drain of the fire. The blue ink seemed to ooze out of the pages, like dormant blood finally running out the slits of a wound. Ayleen could practically smell the boiling iron. “Why did you do that?” she asked meekly, not even expecting an answer.

Her father knelt down beside her and placed an arm around her shoulder, attempting to comfort her, to no avail. “That book… That's why your mother left us.” he said, sounding just as weak as his daughter.

“Why did you keep it…?”

Sly paused and shook his head. “I… I don’t know… it was such a big part of me… I couldn’t just… do what I just did.” he spoke without remorse, without regret or frustration. If any thought carried his words, it would have been that of confusion, as to why he didn’t burn the thing before.

Ayleen pulled away from his arm, half tempted to run to her room and cry. She stayed put however, and turned to face her father. “Who was she? I just need to know.” she growled again.

Her father sighed, frustration taking form in his fists, as he used them to hoist himself off the ground. He didn’t turn to look at her, opting instead to watch the rest of the book succumb to its ashen fate. “Her name was… it wasn’t Penelope.” Ayleen held her breath, thinking over the word __Carmelita__ like it was a tangible object to be held. “It was-”

“Carmelita.” They both said in unison. Sly nodded his head, still watching the book burn alongside the logs.

“She was a better person than I’ll ever be… I know that.” He continued.

Ayleen found the disturbingly necessary courage to speak. “Were you two…”

“Police… shewas with INTERPOL.”

“I-I meant… Thieves…”

Sly shook his head. “Not her. She was better.”

“...But… __you__ were, right?”

Sly pushed a log with his foot, causing it to roll over the pile of ash the book had been deconstructed to. He sighed and rolled his head back, looking like he tried to swallow rotten food. “No.”

“But in the book, you-”

Sly spun around and stared at his daughter, his red eyes swelling with tears. “I was worse.”

Ayleen felt more scared than sorry for her dad, a hungover, miserable man standing in front of his burning past, horrified of having to explain himself to his daughter. Finally, she sighed, finally swallowing her need to cry. “In the book… you wrote that you killed someone…” Sly closed his eyes and scrunched his face. “You said you were avenging your father… I… you called yourself Co-”

Sly held his hands away from his chest, trying to make himself look larger than the tired, broken thing he was. “I __had__ to!” He yelled. “And now I __have__ to live with that!”

Ayleen grabbed the back of the couch, just needing something to dig her claws into. “Who was he? What did he do?” __why did you__ ** _ ** _have_**_** _ _to?__  She couldn’t finish her thought, as her dad yelled again.

Sly pointed to the fire. “He stole that! He-” the raccoon grunted, making a pained expression as he recognized his irony. “He hurt people in cold blood, he hated my family just because one of my ancestors took something from him!”

__Ancestors?__  Ayleen though, alongside a thousand insults to throw at the man next to the fire.

“He murdered-” Sly stopped himself, looking horrified, the same look he had just made, and cringed at his own thoughts. Yelling loudly, he punching the brick wall next to him just to calm himself down. To Ayleen’s surprise, the brick his fist collided with actually broke, and the paste holding it to the others seemed to explode into a white powder, falling on the raccoon’s flanneled shoulder. He screamed “Fuck!” and ran his dusty hand through his hair, his eyes running all over the room, trying to find something that wouldn't set him off. Finally he saw Ayleen, holding herself far away form him, wrapping her tail around her legs defensive, refusing to take her cautious eyes off of him. “He… he just killed them… cold blooded…” Sly made the same scared face, seeming to swell in an old non-verbal irony, and exhaled an angry breath so hot, Ayleen could sense it beside the fire.

All she could think of to say, was: “If this is the way Mom found out who you were… I’m not surprised she left.” The words felt icy cold as they left her tongue, cascading like bucket of water dropped by a helicopter on a forest fire. Sly felt that cold too, as he stood unmoving, eyes glued wide, and his bloody wrist resting in the grasp of his other hand.

“She…knew, she always…knew…” He looked to the floor, silently whispering to himself. “She was better… she didn’t want to… god I miss her so much…” Was all Ayleen was able to hear.

She took in a deep breath, and studied the trees, visible outside the window grow more and more restless in the wind, thrashing with each other for their spot in the sun. She sighed, shifting her feet. “There was an address in that book, that __you__ wrote in. Referencing some store pile of treasure… you probably stole that treasure, huh?”

Her father nodded, each breath a miserable sigh. “In Paris… yeah…”

“Did you live there? With the turtle and the hippo from the pictures?”

Sly nodded, starting to cry harder.

A sudden wave of bravery and confidence washed over Ayleen, and she decided to test the embers. “I need you to tell me about her. My mother, who she was, why she left.” __Tell me now, or I’ll go find the turtle and the hippo and make__ ** _ ** _them_**_** _ _tell me.__ She finished in her head, prepared to fire it at the raccoon when he would inevitably deny her the story of her mother.

Sly, however, sparked a flame of anger in his eyes, hot enough to evaporate their waterlogged glow, and waved his good hand towards the door. “Go ask Bentley. Go ask Murray. I'm sure they’d tell you everything. He said, angrily walking towards the couch. Ayleen jumped backwards, mistaking his movements towards the couch to be aimed at her. When he sat and stared at his hand, refusing to make eye contact, or even offer the slightest resplendence of understanding towards Ayleen’s case, she knew she had to leave. If her firework of a father didn’t want to help her, then she would find those who did. Like a river, she would flow onwards, searching for her place, and for herself. Sly had no time for her, and she had no time for him.

She left the living room almost calmly, and grabbed a back-pack out of her closet. She didn’t have a lot of money, but with the skills she had read about in the book, as well as a wall of moral to overcome, she knew she wouldn't struggle too often. She doubted she’d ever even __need__ to steal, as a train from their hometown to France would take a little more than 14 hours, and cost only about fourteen hundred Krone. She packed just enough clothes to support her for a few days until she found the address. For good measure, she tossed in an old pocket knife Sly had gotten her as a birthday gift.

About an hour of packing later, and she was ready in gear, but not in mind. She slung the pack over her shoulders and paced in her room for a while. She traced her plan over and over in her mind, juggling with the idea that she was making a good decision. She was strong enough to keep herself safe, all alone in a foreign city, but she had never had to do anything like that before. Deep inside her, she knew she had to. If her father wouldn’t help, she **_**_needed_**_** to help herself. All her life she had been kept out of his past, never knowing who her mother was.

__That turtle… Bentley, he would know.__ She reminded herself, taking a deep breath.

__He would help me find her… I believe that… I have to._ _

With one last silent goodbye to her room, she opened the door and made her way to the living area.

Sly was still sitting on the couch. “You said… wrote something in that book…” she started, looked down at him with an almost compassionate strength in her eyes. She was angry at Sly, but she had to ask one last question before she made off to Paris. “You called yourself Sly Cooper.”

Her father nodded, still holding his hand. “That’s… my real name Sly, __Cooper__ … your real name… Ayleen __Cooper__.” he said grimly, refusing to make eye contact. He spoke each ‘C _ _ooper’__ with such a hateful spit, Ayleen could feel his hatred for the title radiating off him like heat off a fire.

“Montoya… that was Mom’s name, huh?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Sly nodded. “I’m so sorry Ayleen… you should have had her… not me, not a… a-”

“A Cooper?”

Sly nodded, his eyes growing dark as the fire died, the wind finally strong enough to throw ash all over the room. He didn’t move. He didn’t make a sound. He just stared at his bleeding fingers, __thinking.__ “Ayleen?”

She didn’t answer.

“If you're going to Paris… stop by Kinderdijk. In the Netherlands.

“Whats in the Netherlands?”

Sly still didn’t look up. “An old friend. You wont have any trouble finding him…” he turned his hand over, watching his blood fall onto his lap. He clenched his fist.

Ayleen turned to the door. She knew she would come back eventually, but if Sly Cooper wasn’t going to help her learn about her mother, then she would find somebody who would. The turtle, Sly’s Holland friend, somebody… anybody. She needed to find her mother.

__I’m not a Cooper…__ she thought, opening the door. __I’m better.__

__

__

__

__Annotations_ _

__Seven hundred Danish Krone is maybe a little more than a hundred dollars. Not sure if the actual price for transit from Denmark to Paris is 200(ish) USD, but that’s hardly the point of this story._ _

__I imagine Sly and Ayleen live in - or near - Esbjerg, in the West of Denmark, part of the mainland._ _


	7. Chapter Seven

** **~~~Where God Went to Die~~~** **

 

Sly thought the Egyptian sun was hot, but nothing made him hate his own heavy pelt more then the burning rays of his and Clockwerk’s new perch. The bird was reveling in Sly’s exhausted panting like it was food. Knowing what emotion literately kept his body alive, Sly figured it probably __was__ as close to a meal the bird could get. The metal monstrosity sat calmly, only moving his head when the figure of Salim Al Kupar off in the distance would move himself.

Sly might have viewed Salim as the laziest Cooper, but still one of great nobility and diligence. As if on queue, the moment Sly explained who Kupar was, as well as how honorable he was, Clockwerk laughed. Salim had just stolen some fruit from an unintended vendor, hiding his “earnings” in his turban. He even carried an innocent stride, not sneaking or trying to blend into the crowds moving about the busy street. He would run his hands across silk curtains, seeming to just give them a feel, but on his lowering, would swipe spools of yarn and coins into his pocket, all in one beautifully calculated motion. Sly was actually jealous of his ancestor’s talent for thieving in broad daylight, especially that in a crowded marketplace. How oft it would have been useful in Sly’s arsenal.

Clockwerk must have sensed Sly’s envy. As he taunted the raccoon with a rough, short laughter. “Would you like me to fly you down there? Ask him how he does it?”

Sly grumbled and looked off to the horizon in embarrassment. “Okay, two bad Coopers out of a hundred isn't-”

“Three” the bird interjected. “This one, the… __knight__ ,” He said with an intentional hesitation. “And Slytukhamen.”

The raccoon perked his ears, felling the sweat roll under his fur with his movements. “You mentioned him the first time we met.”

Clockwerk nodded, his Schadenfroh attitude suddenly absent. “It seems there's a Cooper for every time period… in every corner of the world.” he said grimly, his yellow eyes slowly bleeding into red. “You must forgive me for… Accusing you.”

Sly nodded, studying the bird’s lack of movement. Before, the owl was still to not draw attention as they spied on the thief, but now, Sly could sense the bird was inanimate in thought. “You already did. Pretty formally, actually.”

The bird grunted and looked away, towards a sand dune. __Did I just embarrass him?__

Clockwerk sighed. “I just… when we’re done here… I need you to see the grandfather of the clan you idolize… I need to show you what __disgrace__ those vermin call honor.” his tone, for the first time on their adventure, finally sounded like the monster Sly had always known. Dripping with hate and boiling in paced evil. Sly knew it would only be a matter of time until the true face of Clockwerk showed, but he didn’t know it would have taken so long.

“What did he do?” Sly asked slowly, almost like testing the waters, asking permission to inquire further.

The bird only moved his head, his hunched figure static in it’s gargoyle-esque posture. His eyes were steaming with a red haze pulsing against the heat of the air, as they locked on the raccoon. “In due time, Paradox.” he turned to look at Kupar again, leaving Sly stiff in fear, like the glare of Medusa itself had caught him. “In due time.”

 

****Chapter Seven** **

****Arabia - 1001** **

****

An hour had passed, and Kupar was still slipping his paws into pockets of women who’s hands were too occupied carrying baskets on their heads to guard their coins. Wash after wash of red hot embarrassment flooded Sly’s face, only feeding into the heat of the air. The raccoon, bogged down by his heavy coat of fur, was desperate to change the subject. He took a deep breath, surprised and angry at himself for wanting to spark conversation. “So… How did Penelope convince you?”

The bird kept his yellow gaze on the thief, unblinking, and with such scorned disgust Sly could all but smell it. “Convince me?”

Sly shifted his shirt, feeling pools of sweat collect under his arms. “I mean, it probably wasn’t as simple as an oil change, right?”

“I have no oil. My body now functions purely through electricity.”

__Yeah, I doubt that._ _

The bird continued. “Converted through emotion, of course.”

That made Sly forget about the heat for a second. __So, the hate chip really does feed him?__ “H-how does that… that work, exactly?” he asked, nervous again.

“I am still learning how I function entirely, but I am aware of a certain device located in my brain.”

“And that… __device__ , it keeps you alive?”

The bird didn’t move, but his eyes shown a horrible crimson, as dark as Sly could remember. “You wont be able to retrieve it, Paradox.” he warned.

Sly held up his hands defensively. “I wasn’t going to, its just that… we don’t exactly have a whole lot of robots in my time, I was just curious.” the bird scoffed, his eyes still red. “is it… is __it__ why you hate the Coopers?”

“What?”

“I mean, if you do… __fuel__ off of it, for lack of a better word, is it forcing you to hate the Coopers?”

“Slytukhamen is why I __loathe__ the Coopers.” Clockwerk growled, his wings arched behind him, audible venom dripping from his tone.

“Well, think about it this way,” Sly started, his theory only making more sense the further he exercised it. “Penelope hates the Coopers, right? And you did, before she made you… well, you.” the bird growled again. “Is it at all possible, the old you… the one with feathers, I mean, is more than capable of realizing that the Coopers can be good, and that you only got a glimpse of the bad ones, like… like Slytukhamen? Maybe, that “hate chip,” is forcing you to not let go of that tether? Forcing you to hate… because if you don’t… you’d die…” the raccoon finished, his lungs suspended mid-breath.

The bird said nothing. His eyes were yellow, and his wings seemed to droop. Finally, a cracked, almost tired sigh emerged. “All the Coopers you have shown me thus far have been petty thieves, murderers, and rapists,”

__Rapists?! Does… does he mean Slytukhamen?_ _

“Perhaps you have only shown me the bad few. I would not have agreed to come if my opinion could not be swayed.”

Sly spoke in. “I thought we were traveling so you could show me __I’m__ wrong?”

“Let me finish.” he barked. “if there truly is a Cooper somewhe- some _ _time__  who is good, who steals only when thievery is warranted, then the next raccoon you show must be him.”

Sly smiled to cover his worry. He thought Galleth was the best of the Coopers, in ways of nobility at least. If Sly was really going to sway the bird, the next ancestor he would bring his mortal enemy to spy on would have to be the best of them. The very best Cooper who has ever lived. “Stealing and killing are wrong, and horrible, we know that.” Sly took in a deep breath, ready to throw all his chips in on his next idea. “But I still believe stealing can be warranted. And… sometimes…”

“Killing can be, too?” the bird asked, almost annoyed with the idea already.

Sly nodded, ready to place his final bet. “Has Penelope told you anything of Japan?”

 

****Annotations** **

****

****“** ** ** **Schadenfroh** ** ****” Is (as far as I can tell) the adjective form of the German word “** ** ** **Schadenfreude** ** ****” meaning to derive pleasure in the pain/misfortune of others. So “His** ** ****Schadenfroh attitude disappeared” just means he stopped finding joy in the awkward situation.** **


	8. Chapter Eight

** ** ** **~~~Where God Went to Die~~~** **

** **

Ayleen took her seat and let escape the breath she was holding. The air on board the train tasted like metal, and the loud screeching of iron wheels picking up speed underneath her sent a chill through her blood. This was the first time she was traveling alone, and even her first time outside of Denmark. The true fear in awe of her decision was starting to set in as the city she had known all her life faded into the distance. Her father’s worry had returned, too, as before she boarded the train, her phone would vibrate every second, which she found hard to ignore. He wouldn't help, and she didn’t want him interfering with her quest. He would only want to try to lasso her back home, promising to overcome the emotional distance, but ultimately keeping his life quiet to her. Another series of vibrations, which the raccoon continued to ignore. She looked out the window and rested her forehead against the glass. She had no idea why her dad told her to stop by Holland, or if it was a trap, or anything else. Sly, in his almost disconnected state, mentioned an “old friend”, but with Ayleen’s modicum of fact for her father’s word, that could mean anything. When her phone stopped vibrating, and chimed once, she closed her eyes. Biting her lip, she reached inside her pocket and pulled it out. Displayed against her lock screen, a picture of her and one of her friends, was a text from her father.

****Ayleen, I’m so sorry, please come home.** **

She huffed and drug her claw in circles around the screen, debating with herself whether or not to text back. She knew she would only be fanning the flame, so she set it down. Another chime.

****We can talk about this, I promise.** **

__No. You don’t…__ She thought, feeling her eyes grow wet. She wasn’t happy about leaving, as after all of this, she still loved her father. Right now, she just needed to learn more about their history, and if pushing past someone she loved who stood in her path was the only way, then it only reinforced how importing her quest was. She would come home when this was all done, and maybe Bentley would accompany her. Sly wouldn't have to talk anymore, Ayleen would know everything. Then, if Carmelita… Her mother, was truly to be forgotten, and Sly was right, then she would apologize, and try to put everything back to normal. She still wanted to travel with him to Panama, and live the happy Father-Daughter lifestyle they both wanted.

****Are you on the train?** **

****Ayleen, please answer me, I was drunk this morning.** **

__Even if you were, I’m not coming back so easily.__  She shook her head, feeling careful frustration replace the anxiety of leaving her home. Eventually, she let slip a small part of it, just enough to ventilate, just enough to keep control.

**_**_You need to tell me everything. Absolutely everything. All about her, all about you, Bentley, Murray_**_** ** **,****  She typed, feeling her fingers move on their own. **_**_Penelope, too_**_** ** **.****  She added before sending the text. She knew he wouldn't agree, but she had to say it. She had to make him know she was serious.

****…** **

Was all her father said back. __He actually sent me that?!__ She thought, closing her eyes to keep calm. Another chime.

****If you know, you’ll want to be like me. Like who I was. I will never let you turn into that, there is no worse fate.** **

__I will_ _ _ _never_ _ __be like you._ _

**_**_Fuck you. I’ll text you when I’m in Paris._ ** _ **

She turned her phone off and rubbed her eyes, feeling the tears finally start a journey of their own. Another three hours, and she would be in the Netherlands. __That__ much closer to finding her mother.

 

****Chapter Eight** **

****Rotterdam, Netherlands - 2035** **

 

Once the wheels screeched to a halt, Ayleen gathered her thoughts and ran her eyes through the Dutch landscape. Quiet brick houses, lush green fields,- and surprisingly, only a few windmills -decorated the country everywhere from the dirt under her to the horizon atop the hills. She swung her backpack over her shoulders and smiled. Her first time on foreign soil, and she still felt like she hadn't left. That was something of a relief to her, the feeling of always being just a few steps from home. She wondered if she would still feel that whimsical breeze of thought when she got to Paris.

She jumped off the train, determined to finish her journey ****before**** touring the new world. __An old friend…__ she heard her father’s voice echo in her head. He stopped texting as soon as Ayleen crossed the border, almost like he was waiting for her to hit the point of no return, so he could stop pretending to be nice… she got a cold worry that he was coming after her. Maybe his “friend” would stop her, hold her somewhere, and wait for Sly to arrive. If she met that “friend”, she would have to be careful. If Sly WAS after her, she had just a few hours before he could get a good shot at capturing her. All the more incentive to act fast. The only reason she even thought about trying to meet with the friend was all in the disassociated way Sly had mentioned him. “ _ _…You wont have any trouble finding him…”__ this friend might be dangerous, but Ayleen was ready for it.

She had her knife.

__Kinderdijk… That's Southeast of here… small village…__ Ayleen reviewed her mission in her head. On the train she had been studying a map of the Hollish region, and she knew that if someone who knew her father DID live there, it wouldn't hurt to ask around the neighboring town. Rotterdam wasn’t too big, and Ayleen knew she just had to sniff around the right areas. Her only clue being a cryptic one, she figured she’d try to ask the police about the name Sly Cooper first. Ayleen doubted Sly was ever an office down here, but if Carmelita was with the police… INTERPOL even, then maybe she was Dutch. A thousand thoughts swam behind her determination to dig up answers, one of the larger ones being the fear of what her father would do to her if he caught her.

The raccoon looked at a pedestrian, walking off the train, fixing his hat. “Um, excuse me…” she held out her hand.

“Ik kan niet praten, ik heb haast.” The man muttered in Dutch, hastily pushing past the girl.

Ayleen bit her lip. “I’m just looking for the police?” she called after him, his pace quickening. “Hmph.” she grumbled. “Shit…” her eyes darted to any kind of help desk, looking for someone who might be able to understand her.

After wandering the station for a few minutes, she overheard a rather large woman speaking German into her phone, with annoyance lacing her speaking patterns. Ayleen wasn’t too great with German, he father mainly taught her French and English, but fortunately, what little she DID know was taught to help get her out of trouble, just in case the two found themselves separated on a (hypothetical) vacation. __Thanks Dad, I guess you did SOMETHING right.__ She thought, half nervous and half excited.

The woman was rubbing her eyes, sighing out of her nose, and when Ayleen approached her, she hurriedly shoved her phone in her pocket and leaned over to her with a concerned smile. “Hallo klein meisje! ben je verdwaald?” she asked in what she thought was the raccoon’s native tongue.

“Uh…” Ayleen cleared her throat. “Deutsch?” she smiled.

The woman look confused, thrown off by the improper pronunciation. “…Bist du verloren?” __Are you lost?__

Ayleen smiled happily. “Nee!” She ran her lessons back though her mind. “Ich suche die Polizeistation.” __I’m looking for the police station.__

The woman smiled back. “Oh du arme süße Sache, ich kann dich dorthin bringen. hast du deinen papa verloren?” __Oh, you sweet little thing, I can take you there. did you lose your dad?__

Ayleen felt bile rise in her throat at the irony. “Uh… Nein… Ich suche nur den Sender ... Danke.” __I’m just looking for the station, thank you.__

“...Wie alt sind Sie?” the woman asked after hesitation.

“Siebzehn…?” __Seventeen…?__

The woman looked surprised. “Uhh…” she looked behind her, then back at the girl. “Elf Taborstraat… Es dauert ungefähr acht Minuten mit dem Taxi…” __It takes about eight minutes by taxi…__

Ayleen looked at a map posted on a board behind the woman. Sure enough, there was a little police officer icon next to Eleven Tabor street, three kilometers East.

“Danke!” she yelled over her shoulder to the confused woman as she ran to the street. Once she got to the sidewalk, she found a tall chameleon smoking a vape pen besides a small yellow car. When she waved her hand to him, he stuck the devise in his pocket, and opened the door for a potential customer.

Ayleen took one last look behind her towards the train. Another had docked at the opposite port, ready to go back across the country. She stood quietly, almost waiting for someone to come get her, and bring her home. Finally the doors closed and the train slowly moved out of the station. She sighed, fixed her backpack, and looked back at the chameleon. He raised an eyebrow, and held his hand back over his pocket. Ayleen smiled, and with confidence and valor, climbed in the backseat. “Elf Taborstraat.” she said happily.

 

<`~`\/*\/`~`>

 

Sly finished digging lose dirt out of the ground, and with his now free hand, switched ears for his phone. He growled in frustration, realizing he needed both paws to finish his job. He shoved his shoulder into his ear, trying to hear his conversation over the bad reception. “No! For fuck’s sake, shes gone!”  he grabbed another heavy stone half buried in the dirt, and threw it on the pile.

****“...”** **

“No, in The Netherlands, she… I-I think shes going after Mugshot…”

****“…”** **

Sly moved the final stone and wiped the sweat forming under his hair. His hand hurt like hell, and shoveling rocks all afternoon didn’t help the scabbing. “She isn't going to kill… well fuck, I don’t know what she’s doing! She thinks he’ll help her learn about Carmelita, I don’t know if she wants to hurt him!”

****“...”** **

“No, I didn’t ****fucking**** tell her! How was I supposed to? If she knew…” Sly slowed down when he saw his old friend, protected from the earth by a torn garbage bag, tied up like a grim Christmas present with duct tape and rope. Buried the day he bought the house, never forgotten, and never reborn... __Until now…__ “If she knew about Penelope…”

****“...”** **

Sly took a deep breath, tore open the bag, and retrieved his prize. It felt heavier then he remembered. “I… listen… pal… I don’t know what to do, I’ve messed up before, but this… this is horrible…”

****“...”** **

“I’m not asking for a favor… but when I left… I asked you to watch over… well, you know what I asked.” Sly sighed, and set the resurfaced treasure in a duffle bag he brought outside with him. “I’m going to go get her… then I… I’ll be needing it back.”

****“...”** **

“No, I’m not thinking about using it… I just need to show her what I’ve done… I wont use it… I just need to prove to her… well, that its all real…”

Sly hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes. He sighed and looked up at the setting sun. “I’ll get ya, baby girl… I’m so sorry… I’ll set all of this right… I promise, I promise you, and your mother…”

 

<`~`\/*\/`~`>

 

Ayleen sat with her hands in her lap, watching the buildings roll past from the cab’s window. The chameleon in the front sat reclined, with his fingers tapping to the quiet music he said he couldn’t change, due to a busted radio. He had an easy-going smile, despite his far from careful driving.

He cleared his throat. “So… jij uit het koninkrijk van __Lort-Hul__?” he asked in dutch, finishing with the danish word for __shit hole.__

Ayleen raised an eye brow. “Huh?”

The driver laughed, and shook his head while casually, albeit quickly, passing another car. “I’m just pokin’ fun. Yanno I’m actually a Dane, believe it or not…” he chuckled in Ayleen’s native language. She didn’t respond to his joke as quickly as he did. “I give it a hard time, but that's only ‘cause I ain’t got much up there for me no more.”

Ayleen blinked slowly.

“But hey, whats there for us __anywhere__?” he shrugged. “Don’t matter where you're born. Matters what you fight for.” he quickly came to a stop at a light. “So, what are __you__  fightin’ for? Country? Fame? Mommy and daddy?”

Ayleen was nervous, but took his casual diction as a thin comfort. “N-no… I’m just trying to learn more about my… well its nothing.”

The cabbie scoffed. “Nothin’ ain’t nothing, kid. Its good you got a fight at all, as a matter of fact. Whatever that fight is, though, I wont pry.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, the raccoon spoke up. “Why did you move to the Netherlands?”

The chameleon smiled. “College. Lotsa good that done me, huh?” he laughed. “Nah, I dropped out. wasn’t for me I learned.” Ayleen smiled too. He seemed harmless… if you were on __this side__ of the wheel. “If I could go back, do it differently… well, that's kind of another story…”

Ayleen cocked her head. “Would you finish school?”

“Pft!” he spit, veering off the road for a second. “Fuckin’ ‘ell! You're funny, kid. Even if I __wanted__ to finish I would have failed. Nah… for me, if I could rewind the clock… I’d stay with my family.”

Ayleen stopped smiling. Her eyes locked on her legs, and her ears drooped.

The driver sighed. “I miss my dad, if I’m bein’ honest… ran away from that, too.”

“Same for me…” she sighed, feeling all her repressed fears and sadness come back up. He dad was worried about her, and she was in a foreign country, hours away from her friends, her bed, her security. She was chasing what her dad tried to leave behind, and as disconnected as he could be sometimes, Sly was a smart man. If he tried to ditch this, it was for a reason. She might be in danger, and she had no idea how far down it goes. The chameleon heard a slight sob escape her lungs, and took one eye off the road to look back at her.

“Ah, shit, I’m sorry kiddo, I didn’t mean to bring ya down, it-it’s yur big day, huh? Goin’ to the police station, what fun!” he stopped when he saw Ayleen wipe her eyes. His body shifted to that of an actual figure for driving, and he awkwardly looked around the roads. He sighed. “Okay… so… you’re a run away, huh?” Ayleen nodded, looking at him through the review mirror. His eyes were apologetic, and his lips were pursed. “That’s your decision… but… “ another sigh. “Was your old home a bad one? Did they… hurt ya?”

The raccoon shook her head. “My dad was good to me… he just… I… I never knew my mom. I don’t even know what happened to her, she just left one day, when I was a baby. It broke my dad, apparently.” the cabbie kept quiet, suddenly driving much more alertly. “He was good to me, cared about me and loved me and all… but he would never tell me about her… actually, about her OR him. I figured out he was a thief, and she was a cop… that’s all I really know. But I want to find out more,” she swallowed her fear and raised her head proudly. “and if my dad wont help me, I’ll find out myself. I think my mom worked here, when she was a cop, or… if she still is, I mean.”

“So…” the lizard looked a little brighter. “You’re on a quest, huh? To uncover the truth about yourself?”

Ayleen laughed. “P-pretty much.” she concluded, wiping away the last tear.

“Right. The fuck. On.” he smiled back at her, letting himself go a little bit, his car swerving again. “What about when you get what you want? What about your dad then?”

Ayleen kept her posture. “Well… if my dad was right to try to leave it all behind… then ill apologize. For leaving, not for wanting to know more.”

“Respect, holdin’ true to your drive.” He ran a stop sign.

“And if he was wrong. We’ll talk it though. He loves me, and I love him. No matter what, we wont kill each other, well get though it.”

The cabbie nodded his head. “Goddamn, you’re my fuckin’ hero, kid.” They both laughed. “I wish I had the balls do do that.”

Ayleen felt a wave of empathy. “Why cant you?”

“Long story kiddo.”

“I have time.”

He smiled, and pulled into a crooked parallel park, half on the curb, half in the road. “Not really. Eleven Tabor Street.” he looked back at the girl, who actually looked a little disappointed. “I don’t know if this is the last step of your journey, but no matter what, I’m rootin’ for ya.”

Ayleen rubbed her neck. “Ah, damn… hey, I’m sorry, if you wanna drive ar-”

The cabbie held up a hand. “Nah, I’ll be alright. I got this job for good, ill just unload it all on some pissy politician.” they laughed a second time.

Ayleen reached into her bag for her wallet. “What do I ow you?”

“Your name.”

“Huh?” she looked up at the relaxed lizard.

“So I know who I’m rootin’ for, you know?”

She smiled, and stuck out a hand. “Ayleen Montoya.”

He shook it. “Barry. Barry Crimson.” He said through a forced American accent. “My mom was a Yankee.” Alyeen giggled, struck again by excitement to find her mom. Or at least, some answers.

“Thank you Barry.”

He twitched his head to the building. “Don’t give up, kiddo.”

Ayleen climbed out of the cab, waved goodbye as he drove off, and smiled at the station. Whatever she had to to find her dad’s friend, here is where she would get her first-

A loud slam interrupted her thoughts as a humungous, elderly, purple bull dog slammed the station door behind him on his way out. “…AND YOUR MOTHER!” he screamed in English at the door he just shut, grumbling as he limped away, leaning on a huge wooden cane for support for his tiny legs. Ayleen was shocked, but intrigued by his accent. She stood there, watching him awkwardly shuffle done the street, for what felt like a long time. Twenty years ago, the dog might have been scary, but now, he would be lucky if a group of teenagers didn’t push him over.

“Uh… excoose… __ingen…__ ** _ ** _excuse_**_** me, sir?” She spoke in English, amazed at how many languages she’s ended up using in one day.

The dog angrily spun around. “The fuck you want, ki-” he stopped dead in his tracks, dropping his cane as his pupils shrunk. He tried to take a step back, but lost his footing and fell over, landing on his back.

Ayleen rushed over to help him, the old man wriggling on the floor trying to pick himself up. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Fuck offa me!” he yelled, trying to push the girl away, but finding no strength to do so. “Fuckin’ figures that __rodent__ would have got it on with that cop chick…”

Ayleen grabbed his wrist, intrigued. “You know my parents?”

“Un-fuckin’-fortunately! What, did they send you after me to finish the job?” he yelled, still weekly thrashing about, feeling for his cane.

Ayleen smiled. “Your dad’s friend! Hold shit! That was SO much easier then it should have been!” she laughed, relived at how much progress she had accidentally made.

The dog looked up at her with fury in his eyes. “Friend? Friend!?! OH THAT SON OF A-” he stopped, as trying to sit up, he hurt himself again.

Ayleen let go of his wrist. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, here let me help you!”

The dog pointed at where he dropped his cane. “Don’t you fuckin’ touch me! Get my damn stick!” she feebly picked up the heavy oaken walking stick, heavy enough to almost be the entire tree, and set it down in his massive fist. She watched as he actually managed to hoist himself off the ground with the cane as his only support. “Now… just…” he was panting heavily. “Leave me… oh, god I’m old… heh…” he growled, keeping eye contact after his short chuckle. “Tell daddy I don’t have anything else he can steal… I’m broke, you hear? Bee-Are-Oh-Kay!” he yelled, still gathering his strength to walk away.

Ayleen held up her hands. “No no, he isn't here with me, hes in Denmark…” the English words fell out of her mouth almost effortlessly. Ironic that Sly would spend so much time teaching her different tongues, only to have her use it to converse with an one of his old enemies… or so Ayleen speculated.“I’m alone.”

The dog still looked cautious. “Not even your old broad?”

“My mom? Well… That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, so its really fortunate I met you, I mean it-”

The dog barked loudly and started walking. “I just got released, and I already told the pigs in blue why I was on that bus in the first place. I was a victim too, so I got nothin’ to say to her!” Ayleen sighed in annoyance and took two steps to catch up with him. “Ah Christ, leave me alone, cant you see I’m dyin’?

Ayleen stood in front of him. “Listen, I don’t know how you know my parents, I’m guessing my dad stole from you, but-”

“Knocked my block off is more like it…” the dog grumbled.

“BUT, I’m just here to talk to you. I don’t even know who my mother is… my dad just… well, when I ran away, to look for her, he told me he had a friend in Kinderdijk. I know he was being sarcastic, but…” she stopped, rubbing her arm. “Listen, I don’t want any trouble, I just wanna know what you know about my family.”

The dog smiled crookedly. “Don’t want trouble? Kid, your family IS trouble. Every last one of them Coopers. Now get a job!” he yelled, trying to push past her.

She stopped him without much effort. She didn’t know how she could break through to him, but she had an idea. “listen, I’ll buy you some food if you tell me the full story of how you know them, okay? Free food, if you talk to me.” __Old people love free food,__ she thought.

The dog stopped fighting. “Oh my fucking GOD! __I’ll__ fucking pay if it gets you out of my hair!”

Ayleen smiled. “One hour, that's all I’m asking, then I’m gone forever.”

The bull dog grumbled and looked at his watch, tightly strapped around his huge wrist. “Aughh… if it gets you to leave me alone. Fine. One hour. And I ain’t payin’ no more!”

The girl smiled. “Ayleen Montoya.”

She held out her hand. The dog ignored it and started walking. “Mugshot. I’m sure you’ve heard all about me.”

Ayleen grabbed the straps of her backpack and walked with him. “Actually, no, I don’t even-”

“No talking ‘till I get my grub.” Mugshot barked.  

 

<`~`\/*\/`~`>

 

Sly Cooper threw his duffle bag in the back of the car. It had only one set of clothes, all his money, and a tiny black handgun he bought before his immigration. “Ayleen’s gone, Julius. She ran away.”

The bird looked distraught. “Sly, its not your fault, man, she just-”

“No.” the raccoon interrupted, slamming the door shut. “it ****is**** my fault. I kept her from the truth and now shes going after it… I could have prevented this. I can __still__ prevent this.”

Marsh looked worried, like a dark bile he had swallowed was coming back up his throat. “Sly… that stuff you told me at that station barbecue, back in July… you know I trust you, but… you don’t, __actually__ believe all the stuff you told me… you know, really happened?”

Sly looked up at him from the engine he was checking. “…You calling me a liar?”

Julius shook his head. “No, man, never, but come on, __time travel?__ Sly… that stuff…”

Sly slammed the hood, not braking eye contact. “What?” he asked with a cold vitriol.

Marsh sighed. “If I had known your stories were affecting Ayleen like this-”

“Oh, fuck you Marsh.” the raccoon shook his head, grinding his teeth.

The bird set his hand gently down on Sly's shoulder. “Buddy, we can get you someone to talk to-” Sly knocked it off. “I just want Ayleen to feel safe-”

Sly grabbed the bird by the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you ****fucking**** imply I’m not raising my kid right, Marsh. I am not crazy, and I’m going to get her back.”

Marsh squinted his eyebrows. “She’s scared of you, man, she left to get awa-” he was cut short again by sly kneeing him in the groin. The bird fell, hands over his crotch as the raccoon threw himself into the front seat of his car and backed out of the drive way.

When the car was lost to the streets, Marsh picked himself up and leaned against Sly’s house door for support. With a quick glance through the window, he saw the blood stained couch, the hole in the wall, and several half burnt papers that had fallen out of the fireplace. Slowly, not to hurt himself, he took his phone out of his pocket and called his work. “Hey, this is officer Julius Marsh. I need a warrant to search the house of Officer Sly Montoya. Hes gone AWOL… and I think hes been abusing his daughter.”

 

<`~`\/*\/`~`>

 

Ayleen was sitting with the elderly Mugshot, carelessly massacring a sandwich with his broken yellow teeth. Between each bite, he would take a swig from a huge silver flash he kept in his coat pocket. He even offered it to Ayleen, who refused, on belief that the putrid reek of the alcohol was due to something dying in the brew. Eventually, the dog shifted his eyes around the restaurant they sat in. “This food was shit.” he grumbled. “If the fuckin’ cheese-heads could pack some bread half as well as they pack slaves, then I’d- oh hahaha!” he burst out laughing at his own racist insult. Ayleen sat in polite disgust, across the table, studding every twitch the dog made. “Good thing they don’t speak English, eh?” he continued. “Cause if they did, they’d kick me out for saying Belgium breeds better pilots!” he yelled loudly, trying to invoke attention. He laughed some more, almost choking on his flask. “Anyway, what did you wanna talk about again?”

Ayleen forced a smile. “My family, how do you know my mom and dad?”

Mugshot nodded. “I know more than just them. I know that little cripple freak too.”

Ayleen was confused.

“You know, the nerdy little twat?”

She shook her head.

“Fuckin’ a, the cripple!?! Oh, I already said that… Christ, what was his name… like, Bert, or somethin’?”

“...Bentley?” Ayleen responded slowly.

Mugshot nodded. “Yeah, and that cute little mouse chick he had the hots for. Penelope, I remember that one. Same name as my mother…”

__Penelope…__ Ayleen’s ears perked. “Who was Penelope?”

“...Ugly whore… huh? Oh, I dunno, just some mechanic. Why?”

Ayleen rubbed her neck. “Oh… Never mind… Bentley knew her?” she asked, making a mental note to ask Bentley just who Penelope was.

Mugshot scoffed. “Pay attention, you wanted this right?”

Ayleen nodded. “Right, sorry. Who else did you know?”

 I also had a run in with the fat one, and… oh holy shit, heh, your grandfather too.”

“You knew my grandfather?”

The dog nodded proudly. “Yep. Beat his ass is what I did.”

“Oh,”

He sniffed some snot running down his gray moustache. “Yeah, but the __real__ blow, ya know, the one that counts, that came from the owl.”

Ayleen leaned in. “Is that the man my father murdered? So he could __avenge__ his dad?”

Mugshot nodded. “Yeah…” he seemed to slow down, almost like he was lost in happy reminiscence. “Yeah… when the bird killed his old man, we took some dinky little picture book from the house. Little prick grew up, hunted us down, stole the damn book back… nearly burned me alive doin’ so.” he snorted. “That’s when I first met Carmelita Fox.”

__Mom…_ _

Mugshot scratched his neck, letting dandruff fall onto his lap. “She threw me in the can. Spent three years in there. Broke out, moved here, and lo and be-fuckin’ hold, there they are again. Fuck me over in a competition I was passionate about, and then he fuckin’ gets me arrested again. Last I ever saw of the two. Well… except that dream once…”

Ayleen was confused. She knew her father was a thief, and that her mother was a cop, but why was Sly running all around the world? How did they end up having a kid? And what happened to Carmelita?

“I was in a giant blimp or somethin’…”

The raccoon was nervous to push the dog for further questions, but she needed to know more. First, she needed to find out why that owl Mugshot was talking about killed her grandfather.

“Fuckin’ shit, even in my dreams, they beat me up and steal from me… Fuck, are you even listening?”

She slid her food away form her, propping her elbows on the table. “That owl you mentioned, who was he?”

Mugshot grumbled, trying to find the right words, for once. “You ain’t gonna believe me.”

“I’ve had a weird week. Try me.”

“Heh.” he paused, then drew a deep breath. “He was an immortal robot owl, hell-bent on killing any and all Coopers throughout history.”

Ayleen looked at him funny.

Mugshot looked back.

She squinted. “…Wha-”

“I ain’t fuckin’ with ya, okay? I don’t know how this shit happens, we live in a godless universe, kid!”

Ayleen pinched the bridge of her nose. “…Okay… why did the… immortal robot… want to kill the coopers?”

Mugshot leaned back, looking out the window at the night sky taking shape. “I don’t know. But it was a deep hatred, like he fed off of it or something… but it don’t matter no more. Your daddy stole the book back and killed him. Clockwerk is dead. That’s for sure.”

“Clockwerk?”

“That’s what he called himself, ‘n all.”

The raccoon dug her claws into the underside of the table. __Maybe that’s what Dad was talking about when he mentioned his ancestors… but that cant be true, can it?__  “So, Sly killed him, to avenge his father?”

“Eh… maybe… I may think Clockwerk was a good man, but credit where it’s due, ‘n all, it would have taken some big ass balls to hike it all the way to Russia to take him out. That’s the one thing I can give your old man. Not that he has much else to be proud of, bein’ a no good thief ‘n all.”

Ayleen looked at him through a raised eyebrow. “…You said you stole a book from him?”

Mugshot shook his head. “No, Clockwerk hired me and a few others to kill the guy, his name was Connie, I think. We just took the book… well, just cause! Ya’know?” Ayleen said nothing. “Maybe the owl wanted it for something, I dunno. I don’t care, neither.”

Ayleen sighed. She didn’t expect to learn the full story, but what this guy was giving her was trash. She had only one more question she thought she could fish out of him. “You said there were others? Who killed my granddad?”

Mugshot licked his chin, wiping up spilled food. “Yeah, but good luck findin’ any of them. After your daddy kicked their asses I doubt they’d ever show their face in daylight again.” he stopped, and squinted his eyes. “I wonder of that crocodile chick is still willin’ to get it on…”

Ayleen cringed. “Thank you for your time… I need to be going.” She didn’t put all her chips down on Mugshot, fortunately. She still had Bentley to talk to. It was time to be moving on to Paris.

Mugshot sighed. “Sorry I couldn’t help ya find your mother kid. But if I were you… I wouldn't be going back to that thief.”

“Well of course YOU wouldn't, you hate him…” Ayleen said, shoving some money into the check the waitress had brought to the table.

“No, kid, I’m serious. I don’t like you, and you don’t like me, but a dying man’s advise to the next generation? Sly Cooper is bad news. All the Coopers are.” He somehow found the strength to stand up, cane in hand. “Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised none, if it turns up he killed your Mother.”

That horrified Ayleen. What if all this time, Sly really HAD killed Carmelita, and he was trying to keep Ayleen out of it because he wanted to spare her the same fate… maybe Carmelita had found out too much about Sly… maybe she found out too much about Clockwerk.

Mugshot smiled, and ruffled the petrified teen’s hair. “Don’t lose sleep over it kid, family ain’t shit anyways.” He said as he slowly made his departure.

An hour passed when Ayleen finally found the strength to get up and leave. She walked arms crossed in terrifying disgust back to the police station. __Onto Paris…__  was the only non-horrific thing she could muster in her mind to keep her going. Suddenly, a voice broke though the fear.

“Heya kiddo!” Barry was leaning against a semi-parked cab outside the station. Ayleen smiled in genuine happiness as she approached him. He was her only friend in this city, despite being one of only three people shes talked to all day. “Its dark out, need a ride?”

She smiled. “I don’t have any money to pay for it, I already gave you my name.” she joked happily.

Crimson laughed and opened the door for her. “Its okay, I can pretend like I’m bad with names… Ay…leap?”

She smiled, and climbed in back, for the second time that day.

Crimson hastily backed out of his space, causing a honk from another car behind him. “So I can take you by a youth hostel for the night if you want, they don’t charge for runaways. Shit, all they make you do is swear you’ll help out in a soup kitchen. But like what are they gonna do if you don’t? Call your parents? Ha!… oh shit, hey I’m sorry about that one.”

The raccoon smiled. “No, its okay. I think I’m going back to the train station.”

Crimson looked back at her excitedly. “Ah man, for real!? you goin’ home?”

Ayleen saw the bright speak in his eye, and couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth. “I uh.. yeah… I am. I’m going back to make amends.”

Barry let out an excited cheer. “Rock the fuck on, kiddo. You know, I’ve been thinkin’ all day… you’re right. Family, they’re too important to throw away. I think once I save up enough, I’m gonna go back home… I miss my dad.” he said with a tear in his eye.

Ayleen put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m really happy for you, Barry. No matter what bridges have been burnt, you can always rebuild.”

Barry smiled wide. “For real, man. Hey, thank you… for telling me what was goin’ on with ya… it’s like… Actually really cool how you opened my eyes and whatnot. I’m excited to get home.” Ayleen forced down her anxiety, and let show a bright smile for her friend. “Shit, you are too, huh? Crazy what a day can do to ya?” he said as he pushed hard on the gas pedal. “I’m gonna get you there fast, don’t wanna waste a second on your way home. Family, its too damn important, ya feel me?”

Ayleen nodded. She agreed with him. Deep down, she knew what she was doing to her dad was destroying him. But family, family is too important to ignore, and Carmelita was a part of the family too. Dead or alive, Ayleen was set on finding out what happened to her, and working to fix the damage her father had caused. Family was just too important. Even if Sly DID kill her… she needed to know, and her best bet was finding Bentley.

Ayleen smiled warmly, a smile that would last with her the entire train ride to Paris. “Hey, no matter what, I’m rooting for ya, pal.” she told the chameleon.


End file.
